He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. Roof open —like a Noah’s Ark. “A claim,” he continued, “which I am quite prepared to recognize. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. He was scarcely concealed when he heard the horsemen, who perceived they had overshot their mark, ride back. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry.
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