Do not mistake me. My servant. Beneath the shelf, containing these books, hung the fine old ballad of 'St. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim 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. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. Meantime, a change had taken place in the weather. " "Only three days," reiterated the widow, "three short short days,—and then all is over.
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