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e had swerved violently into a ditch and t

wisted her ankle. As she could neither walk nor ride, he picked her up in his arms. “I’ll take you to the farm house.” “You can’t possibly carry me,” she protested. “I’ll soon show you,” said Martin, and he carried her. And although she was none too light and his muscles strained beneath her weight, he rejoiced in her surprised appreciation of his man’s strength.

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suppose you’re quite certain now you’re

my big brother.” “Perfectly certain,” said Martin. And then he felt her grip around his neck relax and her body weigh dead in his arms and he saw that she had fainted from the pain. Leaving her in the care of the kind farm people, he went to retrieve the abandoned bicycles and reflected on the occurrence. In the first place he would not have lost his head on encountering a set of harmless steers; secondly, had he accidentally twisted his ankle, Corinna could not have carried him; thirdly he would not have fainted; fourthly, mocking as her last words had been, she had confessed her inferiority; all of which was most comforting to his self-esteem. Then, some time afterwards, when the farmer put her into a broken-down equipage covered with a vast hood and drawn by a gaunt horse, rustily caparisoned, in order to drive her

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stant, Martin superintended the arrangemen

ts, leaving Corinna not a word to say. He rode, a mounted constable, by her side, and on arriving at the inn carried her up to her room and talked with much authority. Then, having passed through Poitiers and Ruffec, they came, three weeks after their start from Paris, to Angoulême, daintiest of cities, perched on its bastioned rocks above the Charente. And here, as it was the penultimate stage of their journey, they sojourned a few days. They stood on the shady rampart and gazed over the red-roofed houses embowered in greenery at the great plain golden in harvest and drenched in sunshine, and sighed. “I dread Brant?me,” said Corinna. “It marks something definite. Hitherto we have been going along vaguely, in a sort of stupefied dream. At Brant?me we’ll have to think.” “I’ve no doubt it will do us good,” said Martin. “I fail to see it,” said Corinna. “We’ll just have the same old worry over again.” “I’m not so sure,” Martin answered. “In the first place we’re not quite the same people as we were