It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. Well one night, some of us saw him, or thought we saw him, at a café dining with ‘Alcide,’—as a matter of fact, it seems that it was her sister. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes.
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