“Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. " "That is a far more agreeable one, I must confess," returned Kneebone, with a self-sufficient smirk. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. Lives by his wits and gambling. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests.
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