Wood—and after him came his daughter. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. Her defence ceased rapidly to be in any sense ladylike, and became vigorous and effective; a strand of black hair that had escaped its hairpins came athwart Ramage’s eyes, and then the knuckles of a small but very hardly clinched fist had thrust itself with extreme effectiveness and painfulness under his jawbone and ear. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you.
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