He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged. " CHAPTER XVIII. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. "Come out!" roared Quilt, looking into the aperture. Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. Kneebone?" "He'd better not," muttered Blueskin.
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