One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features. On the contrary, he was a universal favourite, and numbered amongst his intimate acquaintances the choicest spirits of the time,—Pope, Swift, Arbuthnot, and "all the better brothers. Pearls in the dawn light, flashing and burning! "You don't like your island?" "I hate it!… But, there!"—weariness edging in. That night in his den he smoked many pipes. That was the true marvel of it.
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