"Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road.
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