He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. He saw now that it was merely a boy. I could not dream of loving you. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. The party, then, sat down to a bowl of punch; and, at its conclusion, Captain Kneebone regretted that an engagement to spend the evening with Mrs. Oh, goodness! Bilking! Ann Veronica, you’re a bilker!” Pause. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. . Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee.
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