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The Thrall of Leif the Lucky by Ottilie A. (Ottilia Adelina) Liljencrantz
page 99 of 317 (31%)
They faced about eagerly. Editha's smooth brown head was indeed to be
seen threading its way between the noisy groups. They agreed that it was
time they heard from the shield-maiden. For her to take advantage of her
womanhood, and turn the forecastle into a woman's-house, and forbid
their approach, was something unheard-of and outrageous.

"It would be treating her as she deserves if we should refuse to go now
when she sends for us," Egil growled, though without any apparent
intention of carrying out the threat.

To the extreme amusement of his fellows, Sigurd began to settle his
ornaments and rearrange his long locks.

"It may be that she accepts my invitation to play chess. Leif spoke with
her for a long time this afternoon; it is likely that he roused her from
her black mood."

"It is likely that he roused her," Alwin said slowly.

There was something so peculiar in his voice that they all turned and
looked at him. He had suddenly grown very red and uncomfortable.

"It seems that anyone can be foreknowing at certain times," he said,
trying to smile. "Now my mind tells me that the summons will be for me."

"For you!" Egil's brows became two black thunder-clouds from under which
his eyes flashed lightnings at the thrall.

Alwin yielded to helpless laughter. "There is little need for you to get
angry. Rather would I be drowned than go."
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