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. “My dear sweet Lucia. Niente. She stood up before him, smiling faintly. ‘Keep your distance! You dare to tell me I cannot refuse?’ He glared at the girl. "An oath weighs little with me, compared with your safety. He had dungarees on and a blue work shirt. But,” and he faced them both with a still expressionless glance, “this is not the end!” Anna recovered her spirits with marvellous facility.
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