Diedermeyer, sweetheart? He just went in. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. Horrible details recurred to her. By 12:30 a. Maggot had disappeared. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen.
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