‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. If he senses fear in the touch of your hand, he'll give you trouble. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. “There is one thing I must concentrate on at the moment,” she told herself, “and that is how to pay my next week’s bill to Mrs. 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. And, turning to his daughter, he gave the necessary directions in a low tone.
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