Montague Hill was taken for the millionaire once or twice, and I suppose it flattered his vanity. It’s odd how little I know of him, and of how he feels and what he feels. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon.
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