He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. Stanley and his sister into a taxicab, and had waved an amiable farewell from the pavement steps. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born. Play foul, and win. For so far she had kept it uncashed. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art.
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