His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. “I will take a carriage,” she said, “and fetch my things. Spurling. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. Brendon and Courtlaw who had been watching for her, met her at the door. But you shall swing, rascal,—you shall swing.
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