“I don’t see quite what your game is, Vee, but I suppose you’ve got a game on somewhere. God help me. Wood," added she in a hollow voice, and with a ghastly look, "gin may bring ruin; but as long as poverty, vice, and ill-usage exist, it will be drunk. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death.
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