He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ” “Again,” he said, “I am going to be impertinent. “No. "Don't think to deceive me by your false pretences. Raising the bowl in his right hand, Jack glanced towards the balcony, in which the group of ladies were seated, and begged to drink their healths; he then turned to Kneebone and the others, who extended their hands towards him, and raised it to his lips.
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