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At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. "I beg your pardon!… A bit rocky this morning…. Their future would be glorious; he saw it in their eyes; he saw it in the beauty of their young heads. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over.
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