Her mind went on generalizing. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. She still had her letter of credit. She was quivering with the sense of Capes at her side and glowing with heroic love; it seemed to her that if they put their hands jointly against the Alps and pushed they would be able to push them aside.
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