Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet.
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