human
There's a friend of yours gone in to sin for an hour,
gpt
I have so many friends--so-called.
human
Of the high-toned gilt-edged sort, with red scalps?
gpt
Lady Jim, he stammered;
human
Visitin' the sick an' the poor, said Mamie, shrewdly.
gpt
It's what folks come to Monte for. Guess, she best drop in on you--a sicker man I never saw, an' you'll be poor enough by th' time we're through with this old system of yours. I know a bank where th' wild time goes. You may look all through Bacon without findin' that remark--it's my own. Let's get.