"You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. Half a minute, Vee. 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. Here he set down the lamp, and took out a key, and as he did so the expression of his countenance was so atrocious, that Jack felt assured he was not wrong in his suspicions. I’ve—dreads. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness.
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