His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. “I never saw Courtlaw with her—never heard her speak of him. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. 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. CHAPTER XIX.
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