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She floundered deep. “The very question, my dear sister,” she said, “tells me that I have succeeded. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. This—all this swamps them.
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