Anna jumped into a waiting hansom. It hadn’t even been called Kentucky back then when the Shawnee still hunted deer over mossy hills and the smoke from their fires could still inspire terror. Manning’s feelings, and as Ann Veronica’s mind was still largely engaged with fundamentals and found no pleasure in metrical forms, she had not as yet cut its pages. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her.
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