Something about the girl had suggested an idea. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. He took about five minutes. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. Then he opened the study door and called “Mollie!” and returned to assume an attitude of authority on the hearthrug, before the blue flames and orange glow of the gas fire.
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