His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. Aware of Quilt Arnold's mode of proceeding, Jack instantly dismounted, and, instead of knocking, opened the door with the pass-key. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. ” His face darkened. ’ ‘What heir?’ ‘Exactly.
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