She felt him as something solid and strong and trustworthy beyond measure. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. "Curse you! Where are the bailiffs? Rot you! have you lost your tongue? Devil seize you! you could bawl loud enough a moment ago!" "Silence, Blueskin!" interposed an authoritative voice, immediately behind the ruffian. You seemed complete—without that.
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