'But I don't desire to spoil sport,—not I. He was picked up from amongst the wreckage of a broken motor on the road to Versailles last night, and we have information that a lady was with him only a few minutes before the accident occurred. "Well reminded," answered Rowland, who had witnessed his struggles with a smile of gratified vengeance; "I had forgotten the accursed imp in this confusion. Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes. Whenever they stepped from the chairs, he stepped down. It seemed to emanate from the back of the house. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. That person advanced towards him.
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