In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. "What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. And at the sight something leaped within her.
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