She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. Another horseman followed quickly at the heels of the first; but just as he passed the spot where Jack stood, his steed missed its footing, and fell. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. “I gave your name. ” Sir John looked at her sideways. If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate.
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