Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. ‘Parbleu, that pig, he will ruin all. 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. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her.
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