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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire"

In spite of his smile, I was more
conscious than ever that my whole soul shrank from him, and that I
should not be at my ease until I had broken this companionship which had
been so involuntarily formed. He carried a heap of clothes over one
arm, which he threw upon a chair at the bottom of my bed.
'I gather from the little that you told me last night,' said he, 'that
your wardrobe is at present somewhat scanty. I fear that your inches
are greater than those of anyone in my household, but I have brought a
few things here amongst which you may find something to fit you.
Here, too, are the razors, the soap, and the powder-box. I will return
in half an hour, when your toilet will doubtless be completed.'
I found that my own clothes, with a little brushing, were as good as
ever, but I availed myself of his offer to the extent of a ruffled shirt
and a black satin cravat. I had finished dressing and was looking out
of the window of my room, which opened on to a blank wall, when my host
returned. He looked me all over with a keenly scrutinising eye, and
appeared to be satisfied with what he saw.


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