But I have remembered the horse and have asked this sergeant that a soldier fetch him. Well, that’s the situation. “None, I thank you,” he answered. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes.
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