Like most officers, he’d had it especially made, for a man who loved danger had need of a precision instrument of defence. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. Was she a fool to wish a person of a disposition altogether not pleasing to marry her? Was it not true that he made a game with her very often? Had he not been extremely interfering from the beginning? And had he not kissed her, just when— Her thoughts skidded to a stop. The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship.
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