There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. They have no ideas what to do with us. He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. She made an abrupt personal appeal. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. Mr.
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