A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. ” “Well, you see, something has happened at home. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. I have come thirteen thousand miles for this young fellow; I'm ready to go galloping thirteen thousand more. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint.
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