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. Spurling, who sat on the right of the table. He stirred continually, thrusting his legs about and flinging his arms above his head. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. On examining his pockets, he found about twenty guineas in gold, and some silver. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present.
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