"My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. "What for?" demanded Wood.
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