To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. But I am always afraid that he may get in while I am away. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. To compare me to a starving pig.
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