I think too much about myself. “I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. There he was, standing with a group of men who she presumed to be the other richest men in the world. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude.
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