The imbecile. “For luck. ” “Sure thing, kid. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. "Oho!" he said. Remain at the door, Nab," he added, loitering for a moment behind the others, "and let no one in, or out. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble.
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