“Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. The Night-Cellar XVIII. "No," replied Jonathan, with a brutal laugh. Moreoever, it had cost her a whipping and several days’ imprisonment in her cell on bread and water. ‘You are there. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head. She was the actress his whim had chosen to play a passive part.
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