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Updated: June 1, 2025
It was to the minutest detail of dress and feature Dr. Dorrimore himself. Bewildered and horrified, I turned to look for the living man. He was nowhere visible, and with an added terror I retired from the place, down the hill in the direction whence I had come. I had taken but a few strides when a strong grasp upon my shoulder arrested me.
She sat for some time watching the sunset. She wove fanciful dreams in which the pallid face and large gleaming eyes of the young poet were strangely involved. With what courtly grace and reverence he had kissed her hand! Vane was a gentleman by nature; Dorrimore merely called himself one and what was more boasted of it. But what did it matter to her?
"The girl's fooled him," muttered Dorrimore between his set teeth. "That wouldn't matter a tinker's curse, but she's fooled us as well. Rofflash, I've a mind to pick a quarrel with the fellow and pink him." "And get yourself landed in Newgate. Don't you know, sir, it's against the law to draw a sword in the Park? If you're going to be so mad, I'll say good evening.
The gleaming steel danced, he grew confused, faltered, and then came a cold biting sensation in his chest, he fell and knew no more. "An ugly thrust, Mr. Dorrimore," growled Rofflash five minutes afterwards. "What's to be done?" "Is he dead?" asked Dorrimore anxiously. "I'd no intention of going as far as that, but it was the fool's own fault. He was rushing upon me when my point touched him.
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