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. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. Vorsack rose from the table and departed for the bathroom, mumbling something about a Tylenol. . The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. Kneebone and his Friends.
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