“What are you doing?” He cried. . "Why do you ask?" rejoined the other haughtily. 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. . CHAPTER XV. That is my real milieu, and one that I am convinced you would not only adorn but delight in. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy.
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