Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. Mirrors. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. There was a black fear in his heart. Burn your palette and your easel.
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