’ Trodger frowned, and chewed his lip. ’ Roding started. Ah Cum was not a sailor, but he knew his water-front. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt.
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