“We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. "It's a great world," was the manager's greeting.
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