Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. \" \"If they're rich, can't they help even a little?\" \"Nope. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. The voices went into his ears but left no impression of their import. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade.
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