But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her. "Her blood be upon her own head, then," replied Rowland, sternly. . She was suddenly grave. Presently. ” “Please get off at the next exit. ’ ‘Forgive me, but if that is the case, I don’t quite see why you should run away. ” “You are,” he answered unconsciously. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction.
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