’ ‘It’s immaterial, in any event,’ Roding put in. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. "No, Sir Rowland," replied the attendant, "as you proposed to ride to Saint Albans to-night, I thought you might choose to see him yourself. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. In Darrell's open features, frankness and honour were written in legible characters; while, in Jack's physiognomy, cunning and knavery were as strongly imprinted. She felt herself getting into a corner.
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