His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. He appeared to be strangely uncommunicative, though I tried to draw him out. ‘I broke in. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment.
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