She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. A constant attendant at court, he had the mortification to see every one promoted but himself, and thus bewails his ill-luck. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. Earles answered, glibly.
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