" "Your secret?" demanded Trenchard, impatiently. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. To-morrow morning I shall have made up my mind what to do. Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue.
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