He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. I have never spoken of these things to any human being. “Very well,” said her father. Amiable and good-looking. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. “DEAR MR.
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