The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. "Fear!" echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,—"fear! Repeat that word again, and nothing shall save you. Gerald had been confident that the boy would not dream of disobeying an order thrown at him by a major of militia, but he guessed Jack might be wondering if he was about to be haled off to prison. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. —'Why, hang every bailiff that sets a foot in your territories, and you're safe,' says I. He said the place had gone to wrack. Come on. You will be—my wife.
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