Towards night, however, he ventured out, and walked on towards London. Gosse backed, not even attempting to parry so unorthodox a use of the foil. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. Bounding the corner of a garden wall, he came upon his former place of imprisonment.
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