‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. He can come round there. His high brow was what caused all the ladies in town to covet him, it radiated intelligence but also something more primal. ‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. The hurricane had now reached its climax. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. It's a mighty quare 'un, though.
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