"Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. He looked from the sword to the dagger with which he had brought her down here, and grimaced. The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea.
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