It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck. “I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. ‘She may well try to go back. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile.
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