He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. Loans will just ruin my life because I need so many of them. It had been a part of the vast domain of the servants in the house’s earlier incarnation. My thanks, by the by.
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