He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. ‘I’ll get the key,’ said Roding, turning abruptly. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor. "Certainly," replied Jonathan, with the most perfect sangfroid, "I'll undertake to free you from the boy. I should as soon think of trusting a woman.
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