. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. He had said so. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold.
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