They mean something. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. ‘Why, that’s it. It depresses one, you know. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. “You must remember,” she said, “that you yourself are responsible for your altered looks. He said that his life was boring and stupid without her. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Wild on his guard against an assassin.
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