He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. “Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up. Nothing to check their proceedings but a declining habit of telling the truth and the limitations of their imaginations. “It’s either now or never,” she said to herself. ‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre.
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