His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. ‘Wait for me. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland.
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