1. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. ’ ‘And me,’ came the guttural response, ‘I will certainly murder you the very next time I am compelled to see your face. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. ‘But with more courage in her little finger than in many another female’s entire body.
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