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At five o'clock the following day old Jolyon sat alone, a cigar between

his lips, and on a table by his side a cup of tea He was tired, and

before he had finished his cigar he fell asleep A fly settled on his

hair, his breathing sounded heavy in the drowsy silence, his upper lip

under the white ers

of his veined and wrinkled hand the cigar, dropping on the eloolass to exclude the

vieas full of dark green velvet and heavily-carved any--a suite

of which old Jolyon ont to say: 'Shouldn't wonder if it

price some day!'

It was pleasant to think that in the after life he could get iven

In the rich brown atmosphere peculiar to back rooms in the reat head, with its white

hair, against the cushion of his high-backed seat, was spoiled by the

moustache, which imparted a somewhat military look to his face An old

clock that had been with hio