He was in a curious state of desperation. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. But though the shot took effect, as was evident from the stains on the ground, the villain escaped. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone. Just as he was preparing to follow, the wherry containing Rowland and his men, which had drifted in their wake, was dashed against his boat.
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