” He could feel a small bump where he knew a cavity of smooth flesh should reside. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. ” “Sure thing, kid. ” There was silence between them. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. There haven't been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman; and they all declare it'll break their hearts if he's scragged.
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