Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. She had called the police on them anonymously. What was the wench at? Yet he could not maintain this stand off forever. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony.
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