There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. “It was inevitable,” he declared. The militia were in already. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. After a while, he raised his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment, it could not have been easily forgotten. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. A detective will be here in a few moments to make inquiries into this affair.
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