Here I am. She's fine. A fever of shame ran through her being. She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. All its better points were improved, while the less attractive ones (and they were few in comparison) were subdued, or removed. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. "I'm not going to get rid of you just yet. I tried to jump, but he increased the speed. It's certain. Don’t be frightened, dear. He might solve the riddle. ] CHAPTER XI The second call energized her into action.
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