Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. But you belong to me—and I want you. “Would you stand it? I’m going to clear out.
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