I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot. You didn’t see me fall into a swoon when you cursed just now, did you?’ ‘I’m beginning to doubt if anything less than a sledgehammer would send you into a swoon,’ Gerald retorted. "It is plain he has been destroyed by his perfidious accomplice," rejoined Thames. It's infernally provoking. They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls. They hissed me!” “Beasts!” he muttered. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming.
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