He rose slowly and extended it. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. " "I'm a doctor. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets.
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