It was a phrase often in Mr. Ogilvie's mouth. He said the words slowly, as he stood in the window, a tall thin man, narrow-shouldered, with a reedy inclination to stoop, looking this way and that way, manifestly wishing to escape. Mr. Ogilvie did not finish the sentence. He only hung his head, with its limited brow, its pinched aquiline nose, its weak though kind eyes. The worst feature in the face was his mouth, a loose orifice, the upper lip long, the lower jaw disposed to drop.…
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