The man is a stranger to me. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. She gloried in it: he needed her. . But on Sunday he had been obliged to attend to certain matters for the nuns.
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