My father obtained it in sufficient quantity, withheld it at times, gave it at other times, played with him, tantalized him, gratified him.

You can understand there was only one possible result.

Walter Hine became my father's slave, his dog.
I no longer counted in his thoughts at all.

I was nothing." "Yes," said Chayne.
The device was subtle, diabolically subtle.

But he wondered whether it was only to counterbalance and destroy Sylvia's influence that Garratt Skinner had introduced cocaine to Hine's notice; whether he had not had in view some other end, even still more sinister.
"I saw very little of Mr.Hine after our return to London," she continued.