She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. Darell's peculiar bent of mind was exemplified in a rusty broadsword, a tall grenadier's cap, a musket without lock or ramrod, a belt and cartouch-box, with other matters evincing a decided military taste. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily.
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