The father was a madman. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. She had thought that all Morningside Park householders came home before seven at the latest, as her father usually did. “Mr. He smiled inwardly. He was beautiful despite the odd angle.
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