"My father!" she whispered. Something is feeding upon them. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. . Too late now. 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 never finished his sentence. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. “After all,” he said, “I am not sure that you are not a very material person.
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