" The Wastrel rushed. ’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. Wood, popping her head through the window. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. At this moment, his quick ears detected the sound of footsteps on the stairs. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. " "That is what I wanted to know," said Ruth gravely. ” “Oh, Drummond’s dinner!” she repeated.
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