‘He could have little comfort there, indeed. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. She looked away. He had, for the most part, been correct. She's the boss. 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. Possessed of you, I shall have a treasure such as kings could not boast. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. “Intolerable idiots!.
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