You’ll end there one day, mark my words. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions.
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