"My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. There was no one else in the doorway. They are their mother’s sons. There was still in his heart that fierce anger which demands physical expression; but he had to consider Ruth in all phases. ‘Hilary was right. Once more cheered by daylight, he hastened forward, and entered the chapel. And Mother trusted him.
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