The effects of the heroin wore off slowly. “There’s the classes,” said Constance, the well-informed. “To be an actress,” he said, “you require a special and peculiar temperament. Twenty guineas, mind. She glanced into his face. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. The Wastrel did not relish this. He remained talking with her however. I shall want you. Probably he taught me what a joke was merely to irritate my father; for suddenly Father stopped my going to the store for things and sent our old Kanaka cook instead.
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