She could feel Michelle’s nervousness leaching into her spine. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. “You were born for great things,” he said huskily. Like a hare closely pressed, Jack attempted to double, but the device only brought him nearer his foes, who were crossing the field in every direction, and rending the air with their shouts. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back.
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