He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. " The Wastrel advanced. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. ‘Of course not,’ snapped his friend.
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