"I generally do," replied Blueskin, pouring out a bumper of sack. She had money of her own—much more than I have—and there was no need to squabble about that. She knew now the supreme human energy which sent men to hell or carried them to their earthly heights. Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say.
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