Lad, I admire you even in your folly. "Have you been more successful, Sir?" ventured Ireton. His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted. "Oh!" she gasped. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence.
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