“My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. When the lad is fit to be moved, we’ll bring him home. We may be all murdered in this unprotected place, and nobody be the wiser. I’ve made an ally of her champion. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his instincts betrayed him. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture.
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