So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. CHAPTER XIII. . ‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked.
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