I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. His clothes had evidently seen some service, and were plentifully begrimed with the dust of the workshop. Gerald’s voice came back to her, saying that she could not hope to outwit “a man who means business”.
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