He wouldn’t like it if people did it to him. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing. He lit a cigarette and loitered about. —Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter. It's all your fault, you shaking coward! and, but that I feel sure you'll swing for your carelessness, I'd throw you into the well, too. “An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money. ’ ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Froxfield darkly, with a mischievous glance at her betrothed. They sold him the whisky. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male.
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