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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The White Company"

And then--ah-h-h-h!"--she
shivered and chattered like one in an ague-fit.
"What is it?" cried Alleyne, looking about in alarm.
"Nothing, friend, nothing! I was but thinking how I bit into his
hand. Sooner would I bite living toad or poisoned snake. Oh, I
shall loathe my lips forever! But you--how brave you were, and
how quick! How meek for yourself, and how bold for a stranger!
If I were a man, I should wish to do what you have done."
"It was a small thing," he answered, with a tingle of pleasure at
these sweet words of praise. "But you--what will you do?"
"There is a great oak near here, and I think that Bertrand will
bring the horses there, for it is an old hunting-tryst of ours.
Then hey for home, and no more hawking to-day! A twelve-mile
gallop will dry feet and skirt."
"But your father?"
"Not one word shall I tell him. You do not know him; but I can
tell you he is not a man to disobey as I have disobeyed him. He
would avenge me, it is true, but it is not to him that I shall
look for vengeance. Some day, perchance, in joust or in tourney,
knight may wish to wear my colors, and then I shall tell him that
if he does indeed crave my favor there is wrong unredressed, and
the wronger the Socman of Minstead.


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