" "You flatter me," smiled Sir James. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. Oh! I'm in such a fluster!" Upon which, she snatched up her fan, cast a look into the glass, smoothed down her scarf, threw a soft expression into her features, and led the way into the next room, whither she was followed by her daughter and Thames Darrell. She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik. " "Ha!" exclaimed Jonathan, with a sudden vehemence that electrified the chief turnkey; "what's this! a spike gone! 'Sdeath! the women, you say, have been here. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear it.
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