“Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. His sword done with, he took up the bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. ‘Soldier of fortune. ToC Mrs. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off.
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