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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The White Company"

There they paused, and
stood for a few minutes face to face talking earnestly. Alleyne
had read and had heard of love and of lovers. Such were these,
doubtless--this golden-bearded man and the fair damsel with the
cold, proud face. Why else should they wander together in the
woods, or be so lost in talk by rustic streams? And yet as he
watched, uncertain whether to advance from the cover or to choose
some other path to the house, he soon came to doubt the truth of
this first conjecture. The man stood, tall and square, blocking
the entrance to the bridge, and throwing out his hands as he
spoke in a wild eager fashion, while the deep tones of his stormy
voice rose at times into accents of menace and of anger. She
stood fearlessly in front of him, still stroking her bird; but
twice she threw a swift questioning glance over her shoulder, as
one who is in search of aid. So moved was the young clerk by
these mute appeals, that he came forth from the trees and crossed
the meadow, uncertain what to do, and yet loth to hold back from
one who might need his aid.


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