The door leading to the front of the house was stealthily opening. She leaned a little towards him. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. Some doting parent had taught him well.
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