" "For every hurt she has, I shall have two. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. " "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English. ’ She bit her lip and thought deeply. “I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. And now take away those cards, and never let me see them again. Young noblemen ought to be indulged in their frolics.
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