D. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. How the devil did you break a picture?’ ‘Don’t be obtuse, Hilary. They are blinded to all fine and subtle things —they look at life with bloodshot eyes and dilated nostrils.
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