The Wastrel did not relish this. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. “I should love to come. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. "Mr. But, since I've seen the friend and companion of my childhood, Thames Darrell, I've no heart for it. "Ah!" cried Wild, laying down his pen and looking up with a smile of satisfaction. I could not keep away any longer.
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