Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. It is dull—deadly dull. I take the life out of men. " The Wastrel rushed. Pure luck! But for that bottle of whisky, nobody in the Hong-Kong Hotel would have been able to identify the photograph; and at this hour James Boyle O'Higgins would have been on the way to Yokohama, and the trail lost for ever. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related.
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