" "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English. ‘But I am perfectly serious,’ he returned in a voice of protest. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. " At the mention of the latter occurrence, a dark cloud gathered upon the stranger's brow.
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