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Wrayson was conscious, from the moment they left Mr. Bentham's office, of a change in the deportment of the young man who walked by his side. A variety of evil passions had developed one at least more tolerable -- he was learning the lesson of self-restraint. He did not speak until they reached the corner of the street.
"Where can we get a drink? " he asked, almost abruptly. "I want some brandy."