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I am afraid, Anna, just a little afraid, that in Paris I and my friends here might seem a trifle advanced. Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. . Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow.
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