” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. Now she knew why the soldiers had not caught him. "'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. “It’s your birthday today, May Day.
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