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. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. “I love some one else. “Is that okay with you? To go down to the station with him?” “I’ll go with him, Larry.
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