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. “Did they ever try it for themselves?” He wrestled his chin between her thighs as she tried to squeeze her legs shut upon his ears. . like, well, um, you’re kind of looking just a little bit homely lately. "It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed.
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