A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. . ‘You have rifled his papers. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. Basically a kindly man but made cynical and derisive by sordid contacts, O'Higgins had almost forgotten that there was such a thing as unselfishness.
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