With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. ‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. Prison was beastly. You ought to have had better advice two years ago. She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response.
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