” “I can’t be portentous, dear, when you’re about. " Mrs. The young man did not know what he was doing or where he was. " Here a murmur of amazement arose from the assemblage outside. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head. We were to have breakfast there and return in the evening. The servants had left the room. He became really companionable, discussed the new story he had in mind, and asked some questions about colour. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable.
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