He looked exactly as she had dreamed him, handsome, rigidly dressed in a black suit, his hair still half gray, his eyes green and flashing like a cat’s. Kneebone's door, you begged me to await your return here, assuring me you would not detain me five minutes. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. The meat was coarse and disagreeably served. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling.
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