Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. ” The redness in his face betrayed him. "What has happened?" Ruth asked. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. Sheppard, smiling through her tears.
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