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. “I am in love with you. When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell. Now she knew why the soldiers had not caught him. Brendon’s guests,” she said, “and I scarcely think it would be nice of me to leave him alone with Sydney. .
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