"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. “That’s exhilarating,” said Ann Veronica. The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. '—'No fear o' that,' thought I.
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