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white spots which he had worn on coming to Paris; and now
disported himself in a soft, broad-brimmed hat, a flowing
black cravat, and a cape of romantic cut. He walked along
the Boulevard du Montparnasse as though he had known
it all his life, and by virtuous perseverance he had learnt
to drink absinthe without distaste. He was letting his hair
grow, and it was only because Nature is unkind and has no
regard for the immortal longings of youth that he did not
attempt a beard.

Of Human Bondage