“No, don’t interrupt me. " "Detained!" echoed Marvel. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat.
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