He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. . She winked at him as he shut the door. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed.
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