Suddenly he came to a stop, his mouth agape. ” “Never better in my life,” Anna declared briskly. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. “Splendid it must be to be a composer. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. I should like to have had you forgive me. That is why I am here.
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