She took his hand in hers. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. "You've arrived sooner than I expected, Sir Rowland," observed the thief-taker. Wild in my presence! He's the right-hand of the community! We could do nothing without him!" "We!" repeated Wood, significantly. Of course, if at any time—see reason—alter your opinion. It seemed to her in her restored geniality that she liked Manning extremely. That’s the difficulty. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it.
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