‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. “You!” she exclaimed. ’ A wary look came over her face, and Roding intervened. He had no ideas about daughters. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh.
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