“Tell me his name,” he said, “and I promise that he shall never trouble you. All four people moved a little nervously into the drawing-room, maintaining a sort of fluttered amiability of sound and movement. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man. I know something about men. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable.
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