He looked no longer at his wife. She held it by the neck and broke the end of the bottle on the hard dirt. ’ ‘No, miss,’ cut in Kimble. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. With a gesture which was without any kind of emotional expression, the manager indicated the silent crumpled figure on the floor and gave the room number.
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