’ ‘Between the devil and the deep blue sea, he were,’ agreed Pottiswick’s daughter. At last his voice came to release her tension. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. "Will he live?" asked Ruth. The metrical irregularity is intentional, because I want, as it were, to put you apart: to change the lilt and the mood altogether when I speak of you.
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