" "Who is he?" asked Thames impatiently. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. Escape was now impossible. "Dying, Sir Rowland. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged. He agreed it was disgraceful. It seemed to emanate from the back of the house.
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