Very slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. “To tell you the truth, I am a little dull. It’s exactly how it went down with me and Josh Durbin. ‘The general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. Go on. He well knows that but two lives—those of Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland Trenchard,—stand between you and the vast possessions of the family.
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