His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. " The Wastrel advanced. “You’ve grown out of them. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. You’ll come along of me, for you’re under arrest, too. ” “But it is too late,” she declared. ” He played it cool, but he had seen it in her face. . Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad.
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