The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. ‘You dare to come to me? What do you wish of me? Why have you come? I do not want you!’ She swept round on Gerald abruptly and he braced for the onslaught. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. She recalled that day of the typhoon and the sloop crashing on the outer reefs. She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. When gallant TOM SHEPPARD to Tyburn was led,— "Stop the cart at the Crown—stop a moment," he said. “Thank you.
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