Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. People always rejoice at the misfortunes of others—never at their own! The droll dogs! how they must have enjoyed it!—ha! ha!" "I dare say they did. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood.
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