His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. She had found a couple of articles about him over the years, blurbs about the opening of a theater that mentioned him. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then.
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