The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. ‘Do you think I am afraid of a sword in the hand of a slip of a girl?’ For answer, Melusine lunged at him. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. I'd go for it. Youth! You denied me even that," said Ruth, her glance now flashing to her father.
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