He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. The thought had not even occurred to him. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. A garrison called to arms at dead of night on the sudden approach of the enemy, could not have been more expeditiously, or effectually aroused. . .
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