He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. 9. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson.
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