Panic leapt into his eyes as he brought his wrist up just in time to parry the blade. There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his life; there would be none at all if he were moved. ‘Tchah! So you’re the whelp’s girl, are you? Suppose you’ve nothing but that villainous French in your tongue. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. I never want you to be ashamed of me. ‘How dull it must have been for you, poor little one. I called myself Anna.
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