Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. “It sounds too ridiculous. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. Quite!” He sat in the arm-chair and took tea, and consumed several of the extra cakes which she had sent out for and talked to her and expressed himself, looking very earnestly at her with his deep-set eyes, and carefully avoiding any crumbs on his mustache the while. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead.
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