" CHAPTER XV. " There was a momentary and terrible silence, broken only by a few feeble groans. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. It’s these damned novels. CHAPTER XVI. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. You represented to us the immaculate Briton, the one Englishman who typified the Saxonism, if I may coin a word, of our race. ’ Then Hilary became serious again.
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