” “Why?” Mr. ” And thus it was that as Ann Veronica neared the gates of home, she said to herself: “I’ll have it out with him somehow. As soon as Jack gained his legs, he perceived Blueskin lying, as he thought, dead in the plantation, with a severe cut across his temples, and while he was stooping to assist him, he heard groans at a little distance. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone.
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