“Lots of ‘em!” Capes chuckled. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter. Gerald kicked the panelled wall in frustration. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. I don’t know why that should be so acutely humiliating. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie.
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