There was a dreadful stifled groan, and she fell heavily upon the landing. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. At the farther end of the Lodge, the floor was raised to the height of a couple of steps; whence the whole place, with the exception of the remotest corner of the angle before-mentioned, could be commanded at a single glance. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting.
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