’ Trodger had started towards the stairs, signing to his men to get behind the lady. . . " The Wastrel advanced. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. Now she was to be married to him and it horrified her. No— no, it must never be. Very well. "Let me look at the paper. A chill ran through his frame, and, grasping the heavy weapon with which chance had provided him, prepared to strike down the first person who should enter the cell. His perseverance was amply rewarded. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise. Maggot, who promptly interposed her cudgel.
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