Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. He was still flashily dressed, with much obvious jewellery and the shiniest of patent boots, but his general bearing and appearance had altered for the worse. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. This time she tried to kill me with a dagger. The garçon was tipped as he had never been tipped before in his life.
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