Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. They are blinded to all fine and subtle things —they look at life with bloodshot eyes and dilated nostrils.
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