He recommended me to the landlord of the inn here.

He said, 'My brother is delicate; my brother wishes to live in retirement; you will oblige me by looking after my brother.' Wasn't it kind?
The landlord seemed to be quite affected by it.

Nugent cried when he took leave of me.

Ah, what would I not give to have a heart like his and a mind like his! It's something--isn't it ?--to have a face like him.

I often say that to myself when I look in the glass.