He had been frozen in time at age forty-two. A remittance man. ’ ‘Miss?’ gaped the soldier. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. \"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting.
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