"Set it down, I tell you," thundered Blueskin, "or I shall do it a mischief. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. ‘You’d do the same. Her back stiffened. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. Such of his features as were visible were of coarse mould. ‘Come inside at once, child.
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