He had no ideas about daughters. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. "He was hanged that left his drink behind, you know, master," rejoined Sheppard. "We've heard coming and going. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. She kissed him on the bridge of his nose. In the little apartment, under the gas chandelier, his inches and his stoop were certainly very effective. Her courage and her presence of mind had alike deserted her. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it.
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