Long Odds
By H. Rider Haggard
13 Sep, 2019
Extract: Dear old man! I can see him now, as he went limping up and down the vestibule, with his grey hair sticking up in scrubbing-brush fashion, his shriveled yellow face, and his large dark eyes, that were as keen as any hawk's, and yet soft as a
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Extract: Dear old man! I can see him now, as he went limping up and down the vestibule, with his grey hair sticking up in scrubbing-brush fashion, his shriveled yellow face, and his large dark eyes, that were as keen as any hawk's, and yet soft as a buck's. The whole room was hung with trophies of his numerous hunting expeditions, and he had some story about every one of them if only he could be got to tell it. Generally, he would not, for he was not very fond of narrating his own adventures, but to-night the port wine made him more communicative. Less