The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. Maggot had disappeared. The age of this individual could not be more than twenty-one; his figure was tall, robust, and gracefully proportioned; and his clear gray eye and open countenance bespoke a frank, generous, and resolute nature. ” She took the blue box from her hoodie and held it towards him.
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