Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. As the time when his identity had to be proved approached, this rigour was, in a trifling degree, relaxed, and a few persons were occasionally admitted to the ward, but only in the presence of Austin. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform.
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