The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. She whipped round suddenly, and discovered the woman wedged into the corner by the window, keeping out of the way. Pitt, the governor, a tall pompous personage, who, in his turn, ushered in four other individuals. The dance itself was anticlimactic, with teenagers trying their best to look the part of adult sophisticates on the dance floor.
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