The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. He suddenly became eloquent and plausible. Miss Garvice repeated again, and almost in the same words she used at every discussion, her contribution to the great question. Stanley, “very strongly. "One of us has got to die," he panted. This is also the ragged edge of the world, too.
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