He called it "The Man Who Could Not Go Home. “I was glad you did not send it back again,” he said. The room was dark and dusty. Gianfrancesco was a contact of mine, I had allied myself to his father before him, and unbeknownst to anyone, to his Great-great-granduncle during the time of Crusades. My address is 94, Pall Mall. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society. Practically all.
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