"Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. I keep it for my own drinking," he added in a lower tone. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. "Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. Bah.
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