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    , where Flemming dined that day.
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    t the head of the table sat a gentleman,
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    th a smooth, broad forehead, and large,
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    ntelligent eyes. He was from Baireuth in Franco
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    and talked about poetry and Jean Paul, to a pale, romantic-looki
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    dy on his right. There was music all dinner-
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    me, at the other end of the hall; a harp2 and a horn an
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    voice; so that a great part of the fat gentleman's convers
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    tion with the pale lady was lost to Flemming, who sat opposite
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    r, and could look right into her large, melancholy3 eyes. But what
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