Sister’s got married to that bounder Ferringhall. With her foodle doo! "I've a toast to propose," cried Sheppard, filling a bumper. He talked about his driver's license, how he would soon inherit his older brother's BMW. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts.
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