He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. Again returning to the main road, he passed through Clapton; and turning off on the left, arrived at the foot of Stamford Hill. I am aware that you ran away from there, but—’ ‘Certainly I ran away,’ she said, meeting his gaze with defiance in her own. Did you break my mother's heart as you tried to break mine? I am no longer accountable to you for anything. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say.
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