CHAPTER XXVIII. ’ ‘Well, but he was a deserter, you see. At this moment, Davies, who had completed his preparations, extinguished the torch. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. “And now let us leave the men alone and talk about ourselves. He does not look the criminal. ” “No,” she cried, “I will not. He trembled violently. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Your glove will suffice. “I am the most foolish of men. Enchanted. “In any case, I decline to see you alone. "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper.
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