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“For luck. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. Wood hadn't struck me. Take it, I tell you. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. Small blame to her. She will cry for days and nights together. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap.
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