She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. Stanley coughed and faced toward the house. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. "There's a young woman. A siphon and a whisky bottle stood before him. "Thus," replied the prize-fighter. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. CHAPTER III.
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