" "At your peril, sirrah!" cried Wood. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go. My heart cannot take it. He did not particularly care. He’s the sort of johnny who wouldn’t care about having a sister-in-law on the loose. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers.
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