But Ruth was his woman, and he had sworn to God to defend her. ‘Aye, that she was. ’ ‘Even if they militiamen weren’t there, miss,’ cautioned her cavalier, ‘you couldn’t go marching into the house open like. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. More importantly, she had her wits. Very romantic and all that.
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