Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. "Farewell!" cried Jack, breaking from them, and rushing down the street. From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful.
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