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. The faithful fellow will never leave me. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours.
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