“Mid-thirties. I have since received a most extraordinary letter from her. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. Do you have family that I should ask?” “Oh, Julian! No, my family is dead, lost. I saw him yesterday, and he told me he shouldn't stir from home for a week to come. ” With a little crash the pistol fell from her shaking fingers. 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. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten.
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