He began to tell me something—and stopped. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. "This your regular business?" "For the present. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs.
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