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The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. ‘To where has he gone off?’ ‘No use asking me,’ shrugged the captain. One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. “Oh, damn!” he said. She was watching him intently. Under another name,—not my own hateful one,—I will strive to distinguish myself in some foreign service, and win myself a reputation, or perish honourably.
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