“Why, among other things, did I put my knuckles in his neck—deliberately to hurt him?” She tried to sound the humorous note. Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. It was hard to associate her with the stories which he and all Paris had heard of “Alcide. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side.
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