Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. "Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically.
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