They must be for your father. 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. And if she is not a nun, nor a refugee, and yet is entirely English, I’m hanged if I know what she is. It loves to sit on your knee. She relented out of exhaustion, yet he would not let her near Marina, his embrace tightening.
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