"My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. ‘You little fool! I’m a trained soldier with ten years experience at my back. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. We're told, that 'Whoso is partner with a thief hateth his own soul. "This suspense is worse than torture. "I generally do," replied Blueskin, pouring out a bumper of sack.
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