When
there had been meetings up in the hills at night she had always been
left to see to the unharnessing of the horses and mules, and these
disfigurements were the result of her struggles with saddle-girths and
straps. Her work was usually well done, and if it did not happen to be
satisfactory, she came in for the united grumbles of the whole party.
Emile bit into his cigarette as his eyes caught the discoloured lines
of Sobrenski's sign-manual on her wrist.
It was entirely through him, Emile, that she had in the first place
joined the league of conspirators, and this was one of the results.
Sobrenski's judgment had been more far-seeing than his own. One girl
in a roomful of fanatics, (he was one himself, but that did not make
any difference,) would naturally stand a very poor chance if she was
foolish enough to oppose them.
With masculine thoughtlessness Emile had set the candle close beside
the bed, where it flared full into Arithelli's eyes.
They were wide open now. The look of desperation had faded, and there
was in them only the appeal of one human being to another for help and
sympathy.
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