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"Pray for me!" says he, in a low tone, pressing her hand. So on her knees, in a subdued voice, sad but earnest, she repeats what prayers she can remember out of the grand Service that belongs to us. One or two sentences from the Litany come to her; and then some words rise from her own heart, and she puts up a passionate supplication to heaven that the passing soul beside her, however erring, may reach some haven where rest remaineth! Some one close to him said, "What is it, my brother?" and looking around, he saw the wolverene sitting there. "I am quite comfortable, thank you.".
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"Do you sing?" asks he, through mere force of habit, as she pauses. "Put down your pistol, sir," she says, hastily. "Would you fire on a woman?" Her tone, though hurried, is not oppressed with fear. She even advances a few steps in his direction. Her words, her whole manner, fill him with admiration. The extreme courage she betrays is, indeed worthy of any man's laudation, but the implied trust in his chivalry touches Paul Rodney more than anything has ever had power to touch him before. It is at this particular moment that Violet, inadvertently raising her head, lets her eyes meet Jack Rodney's. On which that young man—being prompt in action—goes quickly up to her, and in sight of the assembled multitude takes her hand in his. "Yes, but we are all so different from the English. We have no pretty fair hair in Ireland, or at least very little of it.".
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