Did he see him, this Monsieur Charvill?’ ‘I don’t rightly know, miss,’ confessed Kimble. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. I know why. Gregory B. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. He wore a black tail coat buttoned tightly over his chest, and a large diamond pin sparkled in a white satin tie which had seen better days.
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