‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. “Why not?” he exclaimed. This time there wasn't any doubt. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. ‘I just don’t understand you, Gerald. She felt she was now near her boy, and, nothing doubting her ability to rescue him from his perilous situation, she breathed a fervent prayer for his deliverance; and bending her steps towards the tavern in question, revolved within her mind as she walked along the best means of accomplishing her purpose.
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