The whole incident was so unexpected that neither Courtlaw nor Brendon were awaiting. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. She entered the last room, his bedroom. He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. A town called Foster. It’s not fair to you.
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