First, I went to Country Tom's, the Goat, in Long Lane. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. To her satisfaction, the captain reddened a trifle. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. Spurlock began to watch for Ruth's coming in the morning; first, with negligent interest, then with positive eagerness.
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