I couldn’t help the thought. Another glass, Jack. ’ Gosse’s eyes went to the portrait, and evidently took in the uncanny resemblance, looking from it to Melusine and back again. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. CHAPTER XI. The movement was fatal to her son. The unexpected twist—his disclosure to McClintock—had given Spurlock but temporary relief. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. I know nothing of that young lady. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought.
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