He drew her closer. You mustn't go dressing up Tom, Dick, and Harry in Henry Esmond's ruffles. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. “I will not be drawn into a conversation with Mr.
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