"Well, have it your own way," said Etwald, carelessly. "I am a scoundrel in your eyes, I dare say; but if you will permit me to see you to-morrow at eleven o'clock I shall be able to prove that this particular devil--meaning myself, major--is not quite so black as you have painted him.",
"Then you want him to meet his fate of life in death!" said Etwald, curtly.,
"That was a lovely song you sang about 'Molly darling,' Billy," I said. "Where did you hear it?".
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