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He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. “Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. \"You should go out with him. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture.
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