Her eyebrows, pulled down by the stress of thought, now resumed their normal arches; and pleased with her discovery, she smiled. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them. There would be no mercy in this man.
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