The Vorsack house bore the stamp of Diane in every visible spot. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. "Nobody shall," cried Mr. Or, better still, put all my clothes in the trunk.
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