So she brought upon the stage the Reverend Henry Dolby, a preacher of means, worldly-wise and kindly, cheery and rotund, who, with his wife and daughter, had arrived at the Victoria that morning. ‘I do not know if even I can do anything now. “—but this cannot be. Superimposed was the agitating thought of what would follow the death of this unwelcome guest: confusion, poking authorities, British and American red tape. Let's get one idea into our heads. Any financial return was inconsiderable against the promise of this psychological treat. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. You must live for me.
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