The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park. “Anna,” he cried eagerly. I told him the truth.
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