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Dialstone Lane, Part 4. by W. W. Jacobs
page 30 of 43 (69%)
interesting they was, too--to save him. He was just starting his second
pot, and singing in between, when I rushed in and took the beer away from
him and threw it on the floor."

"I wasn't singing," snarled Mr. Vickers, endeavouring to avoid his
daughter's eye.

"Oh, my dear friend!" said Mr. Russell, who had made extraordinary
progress in temperance rhetoric in a very limited time, "that's what
comes o' the drink; it steals away your memory."

Miss Vickers trembled with wrath. "How dare you go into public-houses
after I told you not to?" she demanded, stamping her foot.

"We must 'ave patience," said Mr. Russell, gently. "We must show the
backslider 'ow much happier he would be without it. I'll 'elp you watch
him."

"When I want your assistance I'll ask you for it," said Miss Vickers,
tartly. "What do you mean by shoving your nose into other people's
affairs?"

"It's--it's my duty to look after fallen brothers," said Mr. Russell,
somewhat taken aback.

"What d'ye mean by fallen?" snapped Miss Vickers, confronting him
fiercely.

"Fallen into a pub," explained Mr. Russell, hastily; "anybody might fall
through them swing-doors; they're made like that o' purpose."
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