’ While he trod a deliberate path through the pink saloon towards the door, Gerald encouraged a flow of harmless chatter about the people Madame had met and the parties she had attended. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. It was something that Sebastian had refused to do, a lifestyle that he placed himself above.
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