She looked up quickly. Then, quite insensibly, her queenliness had declined. “You are of the genus obstinate,” he said. " "How!" ejaculated Trenchard, starting back and drawing his sword. ‘Never fear, my love. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face.
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