Even this man-hunting machine was willing to grant the boy his honeymoon. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. She was a merry creature, it is true, and quite beautiful. And Charcam, fearful of another charge in his master's present uncertain mood, disappeared. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. “I am bored,” she said abruptly. 1. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips.
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