It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. . The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. He had need of all the inexhaustible energy of his character to support him through his toilsome walk over the wet grass, or along the slippery ploughed land. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. "Man, man! You're coming to life.
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