"We have him!" cried Jonathan, hurrying down the steps. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. What CAN she put before that?” His voice began to rise. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. In others, she acts with the speed and surety of the loosed arrow.
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