"The Dutchman was right, after all. The knife is at my breast. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts. . If you noticed, our house is fairly close to the road. The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture.
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