[The Third Violet by Stephen Crane]@TWC D-Link book
The Third Violet

CHAPTER XXVII
4/10

The long, black claret bottles were in clusters upon the tables.

At an end of the hall two men with maudlin grins sang the waltz uproariously, but always a trifle belated.
An unsteady person, leaning back in his chair to murmur swift compliments to a woman at another table, suddenly sprawled out upon the floor.

He scrambled to his feet, and, turning to the escort of the woman, heatedly blamed him for the accident.

They exchanged a series of tense, bitter insults, which spatted back and forth between them like pellets.

People arose from their chairs and stretched their necks.


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