His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned.
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