Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips. ‘You do not like it?’ ‘That is hardly the point. The inn was a military haunt. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. He even thought he could detect the voice of Jonathan, urging and directing them. The future was not so black.
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