David Courtlaw. " She kindled with sympathy. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. "Utterly," reiterated Jack, gloomily,—"as regards all I hold dear. It 163 invariably leads to trouble. I made Hainault’s acquaintance, stood him drinks, lent him money. Another picture slid across her vision.
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