I had no curiosity of that kind. He looked just like John Wayne in a cowboy movie, his eyes narrow and squinting, except his hair was long, unruly, and jet black. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. “I am afraid,” he said gravely, “that your sister has been a little indiscreet. He was apt to play so many games, she was afraid she might have misunderstood.
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