” “Why on earth—? A man ought to be labelled. Drive away the cat; throw that measure of gin through the window; and tell me why you've not so much as touched the packing-case for Lady Trafford, which I particularly desired you to complete against my return. “It was inevitable,” he declared. Won't you, Jack?" "That I will," answered Sheppard, eagerly. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity.
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