Glancing around his prison, he began to think it possible he might effect an escape from it. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. These were the Master's body-guard. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners.
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