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Updated: May 1, 2025
At sight of the familiar tyrannous face, grown parchment-white in place of its old grey hue of the tall gaunt figure robed in the Sunday garb of rusty black which Louie perfectly remembered, and surmounted by the old head-gear the stiff frizzled curls held in place by two small combs on the temples, the black bandeau across the front of the head, and the towering bonnet Louie suddenly flushed and rose.
The household was composed of one woman, an ancient, hideously ugly, grey-headed negress, about seventy years old, and eighteen or nineteen men of all ages and sizes, and of all colours from parchment-white to very old oak.
It was the manner of some one who counted; and through all outward modesty knew it. "He wants something out of the ministry. I remember the man," was Sir Wilfrid's unspoken comment. But they had entered the inner room. Lady Henry looked round. Over her wrinkled face, now parchment-white, there shone a ray of pleasure sudden, vehement, and unfeigned. "Sir Wilfrid!"
There was an unaccustomed color in his parchment-white cheeks. His spectacles were sitting at a new angle, his black tie had wandered from its usual precise place around to the side of his neck. "Let us drink," he exclaimed, "to the new company! To the new Mind Food, to the new scientific diet of the coming century!
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