I asked him why, and he hadn’t a reason. But just as they were about to place him on the ground, he burst from their hold, and made a desperate spring at Jonathan, who was standing with his arms folded near the door watching the scene. Then Valade—was the man as big a fool as Nicholas?—tried again. ‘Tie a horse behind the carriage?’ he echoed incredulously. “I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. She was, she guessed, close to the library. “If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods.
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