Sebastian sat smirking in amusement. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. Here, as has already been observed, condemned malefactors were allowed to converse with such of their guests as had not interest or money enough to procure admission to them in the hold. He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. .
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