She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it. “Girls. “It is the same man, Annabel,” she said. He was in the house with his mother. “Very good,” he said. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side.
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