In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. “The Chens must already be here. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out. Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify.
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