She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. With your permission, I will go on in my own way. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. She began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations.
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