All emotions laid hold of him, but none could he stay long enough to analyze it. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. 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. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. We are alone and we can say and do what we please.
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