“I say!” he cried. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. By a miracle, he averted its path, his hold on the girl’s mouth shifting fast to grasp her wrist. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. CHAPTER XVII.
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