Men in this part of the world drink to forget the things they have lost. " "It'll not need to be repeated, at all events," rejoined Jonathan, looking with a smile of malignant satisfaction at the body. "A little. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. That is what they call these aristocratic refugees, the English. An unwelcome idea came to him.
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