Earles said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed upon her, “forty at the ‘Unusual,’ two turns, encores voluntary, six for matinées. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. She wished she had not stood up. I dare say it will be chattered about for weeks. He had but to give his orders. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. “Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's.
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