"Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. The next moment he was by her side. What she actually wanted was the present state of affairs to continue indefinitely. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually.
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