“Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister. His face was downcast. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. "Facts convince the most incredulous," answered Jonathan, drily. So she married him.
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