The Ragged Edge. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. The key is in my trousers. Stimulated by the promise of something handsome to drink, the man acquitted himself to admiration in the management of his lazy cattle. She laid her hand upon his arm. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it.
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