When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. I shall be very sorry if I cannot have you for a friend. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench. Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke.
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