“No. "Heaven help us!" he exclaimed; "we were mad to neglect the old sailor's advice. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. “I must explain to her.
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