He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. E. I’m going to that stupid party at the Vorsack’s to get to the bottom of it. In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge. The clever hostess having let fall that several distinguished guests from France would be present, the world had flocked to her doors to catch, like the gossip-hungry vultures they were, a glimpse of them.
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