There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. She peered into the darkness. ’ Captain Roding grinned. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. She felt his whole mind sounding in ecstasy. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage.
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