‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. "I wouldn't force him for the world: but if he don't tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don't get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. But of what avail is this? You have no execution, no finish. I said to myself, ‘this will come. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe.
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