He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. As for my past, Michelle, and Michael’s, it is a book of woeful chapters better left unread. Ramage.
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