"It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. . It's as strong, if not stronger, than this. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. ’ ‘Do not make a game with me,’ she interrupted, gripping her underlip firmly between her teeth to stop the threatening laughter. Sheppard. I came back to say, that I've placed your nephew in a coach; and, if you'll be at my lock in the Old Bailey an hour after midnight, you shall hear the last tidings of him. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house.
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