The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. ” “You have her face and figure,” he muttered. Just sit down on that stool again and let’s talk of this in cold blood. " "We know it," cried several voices.
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