She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. It was something that Sebastian had refused to do, a lifestyle that he placed himself above. "But bring your glim this way. Occasionally he relit his pipe. Then she sang. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room.
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