But before the Grieg concerto was done, she knew that she was free. Another horseman followed quickly at the heels of the first; but just as he passed the spot where Jack stood, his steed missed its footing, and fell. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. From long experience with both races he had acquired definitions, but none snugly applied to this girl. Already he was dramatizing Ruth, involving her, now in some pearl thieving adventure, now in some impossible tale of a white goddess. Taking the wind was her business in life. Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a fiacre. "And, oh! forgive me, though I can never forgive myself, for the misery I have caused you. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience.
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