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The man pulled up. "I generally do," replied Blueskin, pouring out a bumper of sack. She laughed a little contemptuously. For the most part these were detached people: men practising the plastic arts, young writers, young men in employment, a very large proportion of girls and women—self-supporting women or girls of the student class. But finding his hints totally disregarded, he, at length, swaggered up to the table, and thrust in a chair. “My God!” he said again.
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