Melusine cursed herself for his injury. Conceiving the opportunity too favourable to be lost, Jack sprang suddenly over the hedge, and before the man, who was floundering on the ground with one foot in the stirrup, could extricate himself from his embarrassing position, secured his pistols, which he drew from the holsters, and held them to his head. ’ Mrs Sindlesham’s lips twitched. “It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. This was his humiliation as well as hers. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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