"You are," replied Kneebone. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. "Come, then," said Wild, marching towards the door, "we've no time to lose. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. Her heart failed her and her resolution became water. You wanted to play a lone hand.
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