In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. Courtlaw sat with folded arms. ’ He had abandoned the “sir”, Gerald noted, realising that the footman’s respect for him had dropped sharply. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. CHAPTER XVII. Courtlaw for his true verdict, and he gave it me.
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