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He was a fine old man with a splendid presence, his gray hair was longer than is usual and a silvery beard flowed over his chest. Halcyone at once likened him to Cheiron in the picture of him in her volume of Kingsley's "Heroes." They stared at one another and the old man rose and came to the window. Halcyone did not move. "Who are you, little girl?" he said. "And what do you want?" "I want to know who you are, and why you have come here?" she answered fearlessly. "I am Halcyone, you know." The old man smiled. "That ought to tell me everything," he said, gravely, "but unfortunately it does not!
He was a fine old man with a splendid presence, his gray hair was longer than is usual and a silvery beard flowed over his chest. Halcyone at once likened him to Cheiron in the picture of him in her volume of Kingsley's "Heroes." They stared at one another and the old man rose and came to the window. Halcyone did not move. "Who are you, little girl?" he said. "And what do you want?" "I want to know who you are, and why you have come here?" she answered fearlessly. "I am Halcyone, you know." The old man smiled. "That ought to tell me everything," he said, gravely, "but unfortunately it does not!
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