Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess, and salutations around the table. ‘For once, you’re talking like a sensible man. Depend upon it, there is a place for you—waiting. He used to live in a boarding-house in Russell Square. There was a long silence between them. " "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot.
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