Danny Brockie

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He was a man over fifty, bald and grizzled, of medium height, and stoutly built. His face, bloated from continual drinking, was of a yellow, even greenish, tinge, with swollen eyelids out of which keen reddish eyes gleamed like little chinks. But there was something very strange in him; there was a light in his eyes as though of intense feeling — perhaps there were even thought and intelligence, but at the same time there was a gleam of something like madness.
Crime and Punishment
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