At length, he fell down on the road, fully expecting each moment would prove his last. He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. And here she was—in a mess because it had been impossible for her to avoid leaning upon another man. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. . “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked.
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