" So saying, he closed the lantern. " "At your peril, sirrah!" cried Wood. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. Always as black and bitter as gall. We came on here at once. The Bitchster strikes again. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. My son went down after his death.
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