" "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away. ” “You want my body? It’s yours for the taking. “See that man?” Sebastian would tap her on the shoulder on a crowded alleyway and say, “See how he lingers too long when he touches that little child? The glow in his eyes? That is lustful intent, my dear. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky.
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