“You appear,” she said, without any sign of anger in her tone, and with unruffled composure, “to be a very impertinent person. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. ‘Me and the butler didn’t see eye to eye. No man knew whence she had come nor why. I do not think that he has quite got over his surprise at finding you established here. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. I had a perfect shoal of callers. Don’t look so frightened.
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