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. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. And in the vestry was the sword of monsieur le major. Vaguely she heard the distinctive sound of male voices as she saw Gosse dive towards the fateful pew. I am a thing to be used.
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