He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work.
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