"Now you had better go," said she gruffly.
"Oh! let me slip it in once more," rejoined he, coaxingly.
Within myself there was the mental query—What did he want to slip in, and where did he want to slip it?
"No, no, not to-night."
"Oh! but that cursed toad spoilt every thing just when I was going to shoot."
I asked myself rather frightened: What was he going to shoot?
"So I felt nothing."
"And do you think I felt?"
"We'll just let me try another shot," added he, always coaxingly.
"No, no, you've been here too long already, that'll never do, you might be missed, and then there'll be a row."
"No, no, on Tuesdays Durieux sleeps like a top."
I could hardly help chuckling. There were many things I did not know, but one thing that I did know was why Durieux slept like a top on Tuesdays.
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