He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one. Now, no more questions, or I shall be forced to leave the room. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. Hurled over the sides of the skiff, the ruffian speedily found a watery grave. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. On the contrary, it was impossible to look at him without perceiving that his resolution was unshaken.
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