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. He went by another name then,—Rykhart Scherprechter I think he called himself. She was greatly heartened by doing this. I don’t think you understand. His French is better than mine, so he knew exactly what he was handling. The change will come to-day. She pointed.
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