” “Oh, damn the thing!” Sir John exclaimed, tucking the loose ends inside his coat. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. There's not his peer among the peerage. ” Sir John seated himself deliberately. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard. He filled his pipe slowly. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. Can’t face a scandal. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended.
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