O'Higgins made it positive; but it required five weeks of broken voyages: with dilapidated hotels, poor food, poor tobacco, and evil-smelling tramps. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. “I’m thirsty. And if I hadn't been thirsty, that poor boob would have made a sure getaway and left James Boyle high and dry among the moth-balls! Oh, the old dome works once every so often.
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