The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. He appeared to be strangely uncommunicative, though I tried to draw him out. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. "Untie his arms, and take off that handkerchief.
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