She withdrew her head with a little moan, and resumed her flight. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. ‘Parbleu, do you think he will run away? He has a bullet inside him, and it must be taken out. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity.
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