Her aunt went off at a tangent. But the great point was still unaccomplished. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. ‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword. He chuckled. She surveyed accommodation that seemed at first merely austere, and became more and more manifestly inadequate as the moments fled by. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. Alderley’s company of militia being his own, he was able to choose duty periods convenient to himself and his captain, and was under no obligation to wear dress uniform.
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