The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. "Ja," answered Van; "at a minut's nodish. Get on, do. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended. He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie. It made her laugh, which in turn made him laugh. "Poor creature!" ejaculated Wood. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity.
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