This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. As they 56 approached the manor, she was permitted to peep her head outside the chariot's front window. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. With a loud shout, and headed by a powerfully-built man, with a face as black as that of a mulatto, and armed with a cutlass, the rabble leapt over the barricades, and rushed towards the vehicle. That was the true marvel of it. But this plan (probably from its danger) was instantly abandoned; not, however, before her momentary hesitation had been taken advantage of by her pursuers, who, redoubling their efforts at this juncture, materially lessened the distance between them. Thank you for the books. She studied the face and tried to visualize the body, clothed in the dress which had created the spinsters' astonishment.
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