C. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. ‘What’s wrong, miss? Ain’t I done right?’ Melusine’s mind was reeling, but she reached out and seized his wrist. “I thank you for your advice,” she said. Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following DRINKING SONG. I require nothing, you see, till my share of the contract is fulfilled.
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