His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. “And let us have a talk about this—some other time. He walked hastily to the side of the broad pavement and summoned a fiacre. Hill sat up on the pavement and mopped the blood from his cheek. A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard.
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