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. “Mary! What’s going on! Why are you crying?!” He commanded an answer in a worried and slightly irritated tone. “Let me help you,” he begged. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast.
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