‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. Ruth met him in the hall as he was following his family into the dining room. 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.
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