Earles said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed upon her, “forty at the ‘Unusual,’ two turns, encores voluntary, six for matinées. ” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. Just one thing more. He had been frozen in time at age forty-two.
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