He was Julian five years younger, the spitting image. The Master of the Mint was accompanied by another gentleman almost as portly as himself, and quite as deliberate in his movements. The horror of those few minutes was still with her. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently anxious to avoid being detained. We’ll be somewhere on the floor above. You have never felt the hearts of all hardened against you; have never heard the jeer or curse from every lip; nor endured the insult and the blow from every hand. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them.
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