He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. “You told me that your name was Meysey Hill. And, fearing you might not come to me, I forced my way hither, even with certainty of discomposing your friends. There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall.
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