" The Wastrel laughed. “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. ” “It is very hard to explain,” he answered. Spurlock bent his head to his knees. He rather liked the "sir"; it signified both gratefulness and the chastened spirit. Am I so forgettable?” He strode down the hall as she ran to catch up with him past lockers someone had painted an abysmal shade of gray blue. Her sister had told him that it was true. She felt privileged above other women at parties, where she was on display as all the duchesses and queens looked upon her with envy as he was so clearly entranced by her in every way. ” “Your sister,” he answered, “did me the honour of dining with me last night. Very glad. ” “Sir John is an ass!” he declared. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable.
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