He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. She felt herself getting into a corner. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. Sixteen thousand! Mark me, young man, you'll pay it back through the nose, every dollar of it!" "I owe you nothing.
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