It was a long, thin, white finger, one which had felt the throbbing of hundreds and thousands of pulses, and Doctor Praed, after viciously flicking at a fly which tried persistently to settle upon his ivory-white, shiny, bald head, hooked that finger into Clive Reed's button-hole, just below the white rosebud Janet had given him a little earlier in the evening. "Pish! mawkish youth. Great ugly fellow like you thinking of nothing else but Janet. Wait till you've been her slave as I have for eighteen years."…
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