‘It is not your affair. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. Now do you see his motive?" "I see nothing but your danger," replied his mother, tenderly. He had not proceeded far when he was alarmed by the tramp of a horse, which seemed to be rapidly approaching, and he had scarcely time to leap the hedge and conceal himself behind a tree, when a tall man, enveloped in an ample cloak, with his hat pulled over his brows, rode by at full speed. ’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. "The part was crooked," she explained. Marvel, therefore, remained on his probation.
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