Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. Parbleu, but she was a fool. Here he obtained some breakfast, and mounting the hill turned off into the fields on the right. "What do you want fot that coat, friend?" asked Jack, as he came up. ‘I am not French in the least, bête. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. The theme was a masquerade.
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