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He was attracted to Gourlay by the manly way he tossed his drink, and by the false fire it put into him. But he made no immediate advance. He sat smiling in creeshy benevolence, beaming on Gourlay but saying nothing. When the party was ended, however, he made up to him going through the door. "I'm glad to have met you, Mr. Gourlay," said he. "Won't you come round to the Howff for a while?"
There was cousin 'Creeshy, as we called her; Lucretia, more correctly. She was a cripple. Her left lower limb had had something happen to it, and she walked with a crutch. Her patience under her trial was very pathetic and picturesque, so to speak, I mean adapted to the tender parts of a story; nothing could work up better in a melting paragraph.
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