Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. “Hold on, she’s right here. It was bad luck to go to Canongate. You are a girl with very little. She saw its depraved eyes, but worse were the glittering teeth as it smiled. Their example was immediately imitated by the officers, constables, javelin men, and other attendants; and nothing was to be heard but shouts of laughter and jesting,—nothing seen but the passing of glasses, and the emptying of foaming jugs.
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