Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject. It’s a mismatch. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. “Really, I do not know why I should have doubted it.
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