‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. I have a hundred of them—mixed blood—on my island, and they are always rooking me. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. The reward is mine. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. He opened the door for her with a faint disagreeable smile. More,’ he said, ‘but I’m told it’s the most amusing thing in London at the present time. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. While he was thus occupied, he felt a rough grasp upon his arm, and presently afterwards Ben's lips approached close to his ear. I pity her from the bottom of my heart.
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