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The chain of destiny


TheChainofDestiny



ByBramStoker

I.AWarning

ItwassolateintheeveningwhenIarrivedatScarpthatIhad
butlittleopportunityofobservingtheexternalappearanceofthe
house;but,asfarasIcouldjudgeinthedimtwilight,itwasa
verystatelyedificeofseeminglygreatage,builtofwhitestone.
WhenIpassedtheporch,however,Icouldobserveitsinternal
beautiesmuchmoreclosely,foralargewoodfireburnedinthe
hallandalltheroomsandpassageswerelighted.Thehallwas
almostbaronialinitssize,andopenedontoastaircaseofdark
oaksowideandsogenerousinitsslopethatacarriagemight
almosthavebeendrivenupit.Theroomswerelargeandlofty,
withtheirwalls,likethoseofthestaircase,panelledwithoak
blackfromage.Thissombrematerialwouldhavemadethehouse

intenselygloomybutfortheenormouswidthandheightofboth
roomsandpassages.Asitwas,theeffectwasahomelycombination
ofsizeandwarmth.Thewindowsweresetindeepembrasures,and,
onthegroundstory,reachedfromquitelevelwiththefloorto


almosttheceiling.Thefireplaceswerequiteintheoldstyle,
largeandsurroundedwithmassiveoakcarvings,representingon
eachsomescenefromBiblicalhistory,andatthesideofeach
fireplaceroseapairofmassivecarvedironfire-dogs.Itwas
altogetherjustsuchahouseaswouldhavedelightedtheheart
ofWashingtonIrvingorNathanielHawthorne.

Thehousehadbeenlatelyrestored;butineffectingthe
restorationcomforthadnotbeenforgotten,andanymodern
improvementwhichtendedtoincreasethehomelikeappearance
oftheroomshadbeenadded.Theolddiamond-panedcasements,
whichhadremainedprobablyfromtheElizabethanage,had
givenplacetomoreusefulplateglass;and,inlikemanner,
manyotherchangeshadtakenplace.Butsojudiciouslyhad
everychangebeeneffectedthatnothingofthenewclashed
withtheold,buttheharmonyofallthepartsseemed
complete.

IthoughtitnowonderthatMrs.Trevorhadfalleninlovewith
Scarpthefirsttimeshehadseenit.Mrs.Trevor’slikingtheplace
wastantamounttoherhusband’sbuyingit,forhewassowealthy


thathecouldgetalmostanythingmoneycouldpurchase.Hewas
himselfamanofgoodtaste,butstillhefelthisinferiorityto
hiswifeinthisrespectsomuchthatheneverdreamtofdiffering
inopinionfromheronanymatterofchoiceorjudgment.Mrs.Trevor
had,withoutexception,thebesttasteofanyonewhomIeverknew,
and,strangetosay,hertastewasnotconfinedtoanybranchof
art.Shedidnotwrite,orpaint,orsing;butstillherjudgment
inwriting,painting,ormusic,wasunquestionedbyherfriends.
Itseemedasifnaturehaddeniedtoherthepowerofexecutionin
anyseparatebranchofart,inordertomakeherperfectinher
appreciationofwhatwasbeautifulandtrueinall.Shewasperfect


intheartofharmonising—theartofevery-daylife.Herhusband
usedtosay,withafar-fetchedjoke,thatherstarmusthavebeen
intheHouseofLibra,becauseeverythingwhichshesaidand
didshowedsuchanicetyofbalance.

Mr.andMrs.TrevorwerethemostmodelcoupleIever
knew—theyreallyseemednottwain,butone.Theyappeared
tohaveadoptedsomethingoftheFrenchideaofmanand
wife—thattheyshouldnotbethelesslikefriendsbecause
theywerelinkedtogetherbyindissolublebonds—thatthey


shouldsharetheirpleasuresaswellastheirsorrows.The
formeroutbalancedthelatter,forbothhusbandandwife
wereofthathappytemperamentwhichcantakepleasurefrom
everything,andfindconsolationeveninthechastening
rodofaffliction.

Still,throughtheirwebofpeacefulhappinessranathread
ofcare.Onethatcroppedupinstrangeplaces,anddisappeared
again,butwhichleftaquiettoneoverthewholefabric—they
hadnochild.

“Theyhadtheirshareofsorrow,forwhentimewasripe
Thestillaffectionoftheheartbecameanoutward
breathingtype,
Thatintostillnesspassedagain,
Butleftawantunknownbefore.”

Therewassomethingsimpleandholyintheirpatientenduranceof
theirlonelylife—forlonelyahousemusteverbewithoutchildren
tothosewholovetruly.Theirswasnottheeager,disappointed
longingofthosewhoseunionhadprovedfruitless.Itwasthe


simple,patient,hopelessresignationofthosewhofindthata
commonsorrowdrawsthemmorecloselytogetherthanmanycommon
joys.Imyselfcouldnotethewarmthoftheirheartsandtheir
strongphiloprogenitivefeelingintheirmannertowardsme.

FromthetimewhenIlaysickincollegewhenMrs.Trevor
appearedtomyfever-dimmedeyeslikeanangelofmercy,Ifelt
myselfgrowingintheirhearts.Whocanimaginemygratitude
totheladywho,merelybecausesheheardofmysicknessand
desolationfromacollegefriend,cameandnursedmenightand
daytillthefeverleftme.WhenIwassufficientlystrongto
bemovedshehadmebroughtawaytothecountry,wheregoodair,
care,andattentionsoonmademestrongerthanever.Fromthat
timeIbecameaconstantvisitorattheTrevors’house;and
asmonthaftermonthrolledbyIfeltthatIwasgrowingintheir
affections.ForfoursummersIspentmylongvacationintheir
house,andeachyearIcouldfeelMr.Trevor’sshakeofthehand
growheartier,andhiswife’skissonmyforehead—forsoshe
alwayssalutedme—growmoretenderandmotherly.

Theirlikingformehadnowgrownsomuchthatintheirheart


ofhearts—anditwasasanctumcommontothemboth—theysecretly
lovedmeasason.Theirlovewasreturnedmanifoldbythelonely
boy,whosedevotiontothekindestfriendsofhisyouthandhis
troublehadincreasedwithhisgrowthintomanhood.Eveninmy
ownheartIwasashamedtoconfesshowIlovedthemboth—howI
worshippedMrs.TrevorasIadoredthemotherwhomIhadlostso
young,andwhoseeyesshonesometimeseventhenuponme,like
stars,inmysleep.

Itisstrangehowtimorouswearewhenouraffectionsare
concerned.MerelybecauseIhadnevertoldherhowIlovedheras
amother,becauseshehadnevertoldmehowshelovedmeasason,
Iusedsometimestothinkofherwithasortoflurkingsuspicion
thatIwastrustingtoomuchtomyimagination.SometimesevenI
wouldtrytoavoidthinkingofheraltogether,tillmyyearning
wouldgrowtoostrongtoberepelled,andthenIwouldthinkof
herlongandsilently,andwouldlovehermoreandmore.Mylife
wassolonelythatIclungtoherastheonlythingIhadtolove.
OfcourseIlovedherhusband,too,butIneverthoughtabout
himinthesameway;formenarelessdemonstrativeabouttheir
affectionstoeachother,andevenacknowledgethemtothemselves


less.

Mrs.Trevorwasanexcellenthostess.Shealwayslether
guestsseethattheywerewelcome,and,unlessinthecaseof
casualvisitors,thattheywereexpected.Shewas,asmaybe
imagined,verypopularwithallclasses;butwhatismorerare,
shewasequallypopularwithbothsexes.Tobepopularwithher
ownsexisthetouchstoneofawoman’sworth.Tothehousesof
thepeasantryshecame,theysaid,likeanangel,andbrought
comfortwherevershecame.Sheknewtheproperwaytodealwith
thepoor;shealwayshelpedthemmaterially,butneveroffended
theirfeelingsinsodoing.Youngpeoplealladoredher.

MycuriosityhadbeenarousedastothesortofplaceScarp
was;for,inordertogivemeasurprise,theywouldnottellme
anythingaboutit,butsaidthatImustwaitandjudgeitfor
myself.Ihadlookedforwardtomyvisitwithbothexpectation
andcuriosity.

WhenIenteredthehall,Mrs.Trevorcameouttowelcomeme
andkissedmeontheforehead,afterherusualmanner.Several


oftheoldservantscamenear,smilingandbowing,andwishing
welcometo“MasterFrank.”Ishookhandswithseveralofthem,
whilsttheirmistresslookedonwithapleasedsmile.

Aswewentintoasnugparlour,whereatablewaslaidoutwith
thematerialsforacomfortablesupper,Mrs.Trevorsaidtome:

“Iamgladyoucamesosoon,Frank.Wehavenoonehereat
present,soyouwillbequitealonewithusforafewdays;and
youwillbequitealonewithmethisevening,forCharleyis
gonetoadinner-partyatWestholm.”

ItoldherthatIwasgladthattherewasnooneelseatScarp,
forthatIwouldratherbewithherandherhusbandthananyone
elseintheworld.Shesmiledasshesaid:

“Frank,ifanyoneelsesaidthat,Iwouldputitdownasamere
compliment;butIknowyoualwaysspeakthetruth.Itisallvery
welltobealonewithanoldcouplelikeCharleyandmefortwoor
threedays;butjustyouwaittillThursday,andyouwilllookon
theinterveningdaysasquitewasted.”



“Why?”Iinquired.

“Because,Frank,thereisagirlcomingtostaywithme
then,withwhomIintendyoutofallinlove.”

Iansweredjocosely:

“Oh,thankyou,Mrs.Trevor,verymuchforyourkindintentions—
butsupposeforamomentthattheyshouldbeimpracticable.‘One
manmayleadahorsetothepond’sbrink.’‘Thebestlaidschemes
o’micean’men.’Eh?”

“Frank,don’tbesilly.Idonotwanttomakeyoufallinlove
againstyourinclination;butIhopeandIbelievethatyouwill.”

“Well,I’msureIhopeyouwon’tbedisappointed;butI
neveryetheardapersonpraisedthatIdidnotexperiencea
disappointmentwhenIcametoknowhimorher.”

“Frank,didIpraiseanyone?”



“Well,Iamvainenoughtothinkthatyoursayingthatyouknew
Iwouldfallinlovewithherwasasortofindirectpraise.”

“Dear,me,Frank,howmodestyouhavegrown.‘Asortofindirect
praise!’Yourhumilityisquitetouching.”

“MayIaskwhotheladyis,asIamsupposedtobeaninterested
party?”

“IdonotknowthatIoughttotellyouonaccountofyourhaving
expressedanydoubtastohermerits.Besides,Imightweakenthe
effectoftheintroduction.IfIstimulateyourcuriosityitwillbe
apointinmyfavour.”

“Oh,verywell;IsupposeImustonlywait?”

“Ah,well,Frank,Iwilltellyou.Itisnotfairtokeepyou
waiting.SheisaMissFothering.”

“Fothering?Fothering?IthinkIknowthatname.Iremember


hearingitsomewhere,alongtimeago,ifIdonotmistake.Where
doesshecomefrom?”

“HerfatherisaclergymaninNorfolk,buthebelongstothe
Warwickshirefamily.ImetheratWinthrop,SirHarryBlount’s
place,afewmonthsago,andtookagreatlikingforher,which
shereturned,andsowebecamefastfriends.Imadeherpromise
topaymeavisitthissummer,sosheandhersisterarecoming
hereonThursdaytostayforsometime.”

“And,mayIbeboldenoughtoinquirewhatsheislike?”

“Youmayinquireifyoulike,Frank;butyouwon’tgetan
answer.Ishallnottrytodescribeher.Youmustwaitand
judgeforyourself.”

“Wait,”saidI,“threewholedays?HowcanIdothat?Do,
tellme.”

Sheremainedfirmtoherdetermination.Itriedseveraltimes
inthecourseoftheeveningtofindoutsomethingmoreaboutMiss


Fothering,formycuriositywasroused;butalltheanswerIcould
getonthesubjectwas—“Wait,Frank;wait,andjudgeforyourself.”

WhenIwasbiddinghergoodnight,Mrs.Trevorsaidtome—

“By-the-bye,Frank,youwillhavetogiveuptheroomwhichyou
willsleepinto-night,afterto-morrow.Iwillhavesuchafull
housethatIcannotletyouhaveadoubled-beddedroomallto
yourself;soIwillgivethatroomtotheMissFotherings,andmove
youuptothesecondfloor.Ijustwantyoutoseetheroom,asit
hasaromanticlookaboutit,andhasalltheoldfurniturethat
wasinitwhenwecamehere.Thereareseveralpicturesinitworth
lookingat.”

Mybedroomwasalargechamber—immenseforabedroom—withtwo
windowsopeninglevelwiththefloor,likethoseoftheparlours
anddrawingrooms.Thefurniturewasold-fashioned,butnotold
enoughtobecurious,andonthewallshungmanypictures—portraits—
thehousewasfullofportraits—andlandscapes.Ijustglancedat
these,intendingtoexaminetheminthemorning,andwenttobed.
Therewasafireintheroom,andIlayawakeforsometimelooking


dreamilyattheshadowsofthefurnitureflittingoverthewalls
andceilingastheflamesofthewoodfireleapedandfell,andthe
redembersdroppedwhiteningonthehearth.Itriedtogivetherein
tomythoughts,buttheykeptconstantlytotheonesubject—the
mysteriousMissFothering,withwhomIwastofallinlove.Iwas
surethatIhadheardhernamesomewhere,andIhadattimeslazy
recollectionsofachild’sface.AtsuchtimesIwouldstartawake
frommygrowingdrowsiness,butbeforeIcouldcollectmyscattered
thoughtstheideahadeludedme.Icouldrememberneitherwhennor
whereIhadheardthename,norcouldIrecalleventheexpression
ofthechild’sface.Itmusthavebeenlong,longago,whenIwas
young.WhenIwasyoungmymotherwasalive.Mymother—mother—
mother.Ifoundmyselfhalfawakening,andrepeatingthewordover
andoveragain.AtlastIfellasleep.

IthoughtthatIawokesuddenlytothatpeculiarfeelingwhich
wesometimeshaveonstartingfromsleep,asifsomeonehadbeen
speakingintheroom,andthevoiceisstillechoingthroughit.
Allwasquitesilent,andthefirehadgoneout.Ilookedoutof
thewindowthatlaystraightoppositethefootofthebed,and
observedalightoutside,whichgraduallygrewbrightertillthe


roomwasalmostaslightasbyday.Thewindowlookedlikea
pictureintheframeworkformedbythecorniceoverthefootof
thebed,andthemassivepillarsshroudedincurtainswhich
supportedit.

WiththenewaccessionoflightIlookedroundtheroom,but
nothingwaschanged.Allwasasbefore,exceptthatsomeofthe
objectsoffurnitureandornamentwereshowninstrongerrelief
thanhitherto.Amongstthese,thosemostinreliefweretheother
bed,whichwasplacedacrosstheroom,andanoldpicturethathung
onthewallatitsfoot.Asthebedwasmerelythecounterpartof
theoneinwhichIlay,myattentionbecamefixedonthepicture.
Iobserveditcloselyandwithgreatinterest.Itseemedold,and
wastheportraitofayounggirl,whoseface,thoughkindlyand
merry,boresignsofthoughtandacapacityfordeepfeeling—almost
forpassion.Atsomemoments,asIlookedatit,itcalledupbefore
mymindavisionofShakespeare’sBeatrice,andonceIthoughtof
BeatriceCenci.Butthiswasprobablycausedbytheassociationof
ideassuggestedbythesimilarityofnames.

Thelightintheroomcontinuedtogrowevenbrighter,soI


lookedagainoutofthewindowtoseekitssource,andsawthere
alovelysight.Itseemedasifthereweregroupedwithoutthe
windowthreelovelychildren,whoseemedtofloatinmid-air.
Thelightseemedtospringfromapointfarbehindthem,andby
theirsidewassomethingdarkandshadowy,whichservedtoset
offtheirradiance.

Thechildrenseemedtobesmilinginuponsomethinginthe
room,and,followingtheirglances,Isawthattheireyesrested
upontheotherbed.There,strangetosay,theheadwhichIhad
latelyseeninthepictureresteduponthepillow.Ilookedat
thewall,buttheframewasempty,thepicturewasgone.ThenI
lookedatthebedagain,andsawtheyounggirlasleep,withthe
expressionofherfaceconstantlychanging,asthoughshewere
dreaming.

AsIwasobservingher,asuddenlookofterrorspreadoverher
face,andshesatuplikeasleep-walker,withhereyeswideopen,
staringoutofthewindow.

Againturningtothewindow,mygazebecamefixed,foragreat


andweirdchangehadtakenplace.Thefigureswerestillthere,
buttheirfeaturesandexpressionshadbecomewoefullydifferent.
Insteadofthehappyinnocentlookofchildhoodwasoneof
malignity.Withthechangethechildrenhadgrownold,andnow
threehags,decrepitanddeformed,liketypicalwitches,were
beforeme.

Butathousandtimesworsethanthistransformationwasthe
changeinthedarkmassthatwasnearthem.Fromacloud,misty
andundefined,itbecameasortofshadowwithaform.This
gradually,asIlooked,grewdarkerandfuller,tillatlength
itmademeshudder.Therestoodbeforemethephantomofthe
Fiend.

Therewasalongperiodofdeadsilence,inwhichIcouldhear
thebeatingofmyheart;butatlengththephantomspoketothe
others.Hiswordsseemedtoissuefromhislipsmechanically,and
withoutexpression—“To-morrow,andto-morrow,andto-morrow.The
fairestandthebest.”Helookedsoawfulthatthequestionarose
inmymind—“WouldIdaretofacehimwithoutthewindow—wouldany
onedaretogoamongstthosefiends?”Aharsh,strident,diabolical


laughfromwithoutseemedtoanswermyunaskedquestioninthe
negative.

ButaswellasthelaughIheardanothersound—thetonesof
asweetsadvoiceindespaircomingacrosstheroom.

“Oh,alone,alone!istherenohumanthingnearme?Nohope—no
hope.Ishallgomad—ordie.”

Thelastwordswerespokenwithagasp.

Itriedtojumpoutofbed,butcouldnotstir,mylimbswere
boundinsleep.Theyounggirl’sheadfellsuddenlybackupon
thepillow,andthelimp-hangingjawandwide-open,purposeless
mouthspokebuttooplainlyofwhathadhappened.

AgainIheardfromwithoutthefierce,diabolicallaughter,
whichswelledlouderandlouder,tillatlastitgrewsostrong
thatinveryhorrorIshookasidemysleepandsatupinbed.
listenedandheardaknockingatthedoor,butinanothermoment
Ibecamemoreawake,andknewthatthesoundcamefromthehall.


Itwas,nodoubt,Mr.Trevorreturningfromhisparty.

Thehall-doorwasopenedandshut,andthencameasubdued
soundoftrampingandvoices,butthissoondiedaway,andthere
wassilencethroughoutthehouse.

Ilayawakeforlongthinking,andlookingacrosstheroomat
thepictureandattheemptybed;forthemoonnowshonebrightly,
andthenightwasrenderedstillbrighterbyoccasionalflashes
ofsummerlightning.Attimesthesilencewasbrokenbyanowl
screechingoutside.

AsIlayawake,pondering,IwasverymuchtroubledbywhatI
hadseen;butatlength,puttingseveralthingstogether,Icame
totheconclusionthatIhadhadadreamofakindthatmighthave
beenexpected.Thelightning,theknockingatthehall-door,the
screechingoftheowl,theemptybed,andthefaceinthepicture,
whengroupedtogether,suppliedmaterialsforthemainfactsof
thevision.Therestwas,ofcourse,theoffspringofpurefancy,
andthenaturalconsequenceofthecomponentelementsmentioned
actingwitheachotherinthemind.



Igotupandlookedoutofthewindow,butsawnothingbut
thebroadbeltofmoonlightglitteringonthebosomofthelake,
whichextendedmilesandmilesaway,tillitsfarthershorewas
lostinthenighthaze,andthegreensward,dottedwithshrubs
andtallgrasses,whichlaybetweenthelakeandthehouse.

Thevisionhadutterlyfaded.However,thedream—forso,I
suppose,Ishouldcallit—wasverypowerful,andIsleptnomore
tillthesunlightwasstreamingbroadlyinatthewindow,and
thenIfellintoadoze.

II.MoreLinks

LateinthemorningIwasawakenedbyParks,Mr.Trevor’sman,who
alwaysusedtoattendonmewhenIvisitedmyfriends.Hebrought
mehotwaterandthelocalnews;and,chattingwithhim,Iforgot
foratimemyalarmofthenight.

Parkswasstaidandelderly,andatypeofaclassnowrapidly
disappearing—theclassofoldfamilyservantswhoareasproudof


theirhereditaryloyaltytotheirmasters,asthosemastersareof
nameandrank.Likealloldservantshehadagreatlovingforall
sortsoftraditions.Hebelievedthem,andfearedthem,andhad
themostprofoundreverenceforanythingwhichhadastory.

Iaskedhimifheknewanythingofthelegendaryhistoryof
Scarp.Heansweredwithanairofdoubtandhesitation,asofone
carefullydeliveringanopinionwhichwasstillincomplete.

“Well,yousee,MasterFrank,thatScarpissooldthatitmust
haveanynumberoflegends;butitissolongsinceitwasinhabited
thatnooneinthevillageremembersthem.Theplaceseemstohave
becomeinakindofwayforgotten,anddiedoutofpeople’sthoughts,
andsoIamverymuchafraid,sir,thatallthegenuinehistoryis
lost.”

“Whatdoyoumeanbythegenuinehistory?”Iinquired.

“Well,sir,Imeanthetruetradition,andnottheinventions
ofthevillagefolk.Iheardthesextontellsomestories,butI
amquitesurethattheywerenottrue,forIcouldsee,Master


Frank,thathedidnotbelievethemhimself,butwasonlytrying
tofrightenus.”

“Andcouldyounothearofanystorythatappearedtoyouto
betrue?”

“No,sir,andItriedveryhard.Yousee,MasterFrank,that
thereisasortofclubheldeveryweekinthetaverndowninthe
village,composedofveryrespectablemen,sir—veryrespectable
men,indeed—andtheyaskedmetobetheirchairman.Ispoketothe
masteraboutit,andhegavemeleavetoaccepttheirproposal.
Iaccepteditastheymadeapointofit;andfrommypositionI
haveofcourseafineopportunityofmakinginquiries.Itwasat
theclub,sir,thatIwas,lastnight,sothatIwasnothereto
attendonyou,whichIhopethatyouwillexcuse.”

Parks’sairofmingledprideandcondescension,ashemade
theannouncementoftheclub,wasveryfine,andtheeffectwas
heightenedbytheconfidingfranknesswithwhichhespoke.I
askedhimifhecouldfindnocluetoanyofthelegendswhich
musthaveexistedaboutsuchanoldplace.Heansweredwitha


veryslightreluctance—

“Well,sir,therewasonewomaninthevillagewhowas
awfullyoldanddoting,andsheevidentlyknewsomethingabout
Scarp,forwhensheheardthenameshemumbledoutsomething
about‘awfulstories,’and‘timesofhorror,’andsuchlike
things,butIcouldn’tmakeherunderstandwhatitwasIwanted
toknow,orkeepheruptothepoint.”

“Andhaveyoutriedoften,Parks?Whydoyounottryagain?”

“Sheisdead,sir!”

IhadfeltinclinedtolaughatParkswhenhewastellingme
oftheoldwoman.Thewayinwhichhegloatedoverthewords
“awfulstories,”and“timesofhorror,”wasbeyondthepowerof
description;itshouldhavebeenheardandseentohavebeen
properlyappreciated.Hisvoicebecamedeepandmysterious,and
healmostsmackedhislipsatthethoughtofsomuchpabulumfor
nightmares.Butwhenhecalmlytoldmethatthewomanwasdead,
asenseofblankness,mingledwithawe,cameuponme.Here,the


lastlinkbetweenmyselfandthemysteriouspastwasbroken,
nevertobemended.Alltherichstoresoflegendandtradition
thathadarisenfromstrangeconjuncturesofcircumstances,and
fromthebeliefandimaginationoflonglinesofvillagers,loyal
totheirsuzerainlord,werelostforever.Ifeltquitesadand
disappointed;andnoattemptwasmadeeitherbyParksormyself
tocontinuetheconversation.Mr.Trevorcamepresentlyintomy
room,andhavinggreetedeachotherwarmlywewenttogetherto
breakfast.

AtbreakfastMrs.TrevoraskedmewhatIthoughtofthe
girl’sportraitinmybedroom.Wehadoftenhaddiscussionsas
tocharactersinfacesforwewerebothphysiognomists,andshe
askedthequestionasifshewerereallycurioustohearmy
opinion.ItoldherthatIhadonlyseenitforashorttime,
andsowouldrathernotattempttogiveafinalopinionwithout
amorecarefulstudy;butfromwhatIhadseenofitIhadbeen
favourablyimpressed.

“Well,Frank,afterbreakfastgoandlookatitagaincarefully,
andthentellmeexactlywhatyouthinkaboutit.”


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