本书摘录:
Chapter 1
_ CHAPTER I
It is not often that you see a man tear his hair, but this is exactly what Rashleigh Allerton did. He tore it, first, because of being under the stress of great agitation, and second, because he had it to tear--a thick, black shock with a tendency to part in the middle, but brushed carefully to one side. Seated on the extreme edge of one of Miss Walbrook‘s strong, slender armchairs, his elbows on his knees, he dug his fingers into the dark mass with every fresh taunt from his fiancee.
She was standing over him, high-tempered, imperious. "So it‘s come to this," she said, with decision; "you‘ve got to choose between a stupid, vulgar lot of men, and me."
He gritted his teeth. "Do you expect me to give up all my friends?"
"All your friends! That‘s another matter. I‘m speaking of half a dozen profligates, of whom you seem determined--I must say it, Rash; you force me to it--of whom you seem determined to be one."
He jumped to his feet, a slim, go
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