" Spurlock closed his eyes. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. 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. ‘Caught in the act by myself and Major Gerald Alderley only last week. ‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle. ’ Gerald tutted. “The Miss Pellissier who was at White’s with us. They sucked face and felt each other up, or something. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled.
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