‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes.
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