‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. Not if I read her aright. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. The poor boy, imagining things! "That's want of substantial food. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. ” “Quite. Now do you see his motive?" "I see nothing but your danger," replied his mother, tenderly. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way.
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