Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr. " "No," cried the lady, "this room—I recollect—it has a back window. "Stir a foot, at your peril. He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. Then suddenly he seized a new preparation bottle that stood upon his table and contained the better part of a week’s work—a displayed dissection of a snail, beautifully done—and hurled it across the room, to smash resoundingly upon the cemented floor under the bookcase; then, without either haste or pause, he swept his arm along a shelf of re-agents and sent them to mingle with the debris on the floor. One she entered and met with a sharp rebuff, which she appeared to receive unmoved. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her. It's so stuffy—and all that tobacco smoke!" He inspected his watch. ’ He opened the purse and extracted a couple of guineas. ’ He stared at the point, glanced at the fallen sword imprisoned by her foot, and only just looked back at her weapon in time to see it thrust at him again. A lesson learned. Wood," added she in a hollow voice, and with a ghastly look, "gin may bring ruin; but as long as poverty, vice, and ill-usage exist, it will be drunk.
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