Chapter 20 No.20

Next morning Rudolph Musgrave found the world no longer an impassioned place, but simply a familiar habitation,-no longer the wrestling-ground of big emotions, indeed, but undoubtedly a spot, whatever were its other pretensions to praise, wherein one was at home. He breakfasted on ham and eggs, in a state of tolerable equanimity; and mildly wondere

            
            

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