Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power. '—'What is it, Mint?' asked all three. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. White would not approve of callers. He certainly bore inspection.
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