They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute. Ann Veronica sat down in the other arm-chair and darned badly for a minute or so. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. Proper enough now, when he could not help himself, but the habit would be formed; and when he was strong again it would become the normal role, hers to give and his to receive. "Well, who'd have thought of Shotbolt beating us all in this way!" said Ireton. Life seemed a very brave and glorious enterprise to Ann Veronica that day. ’ ‘Oh, yes I do,’ Martha said, getting up off the bed.
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