. This person was speedily followed by half a dozen others, some of whom carried flambeaux. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders. ‘Who is that man? What has he to do with you? No, don’t tell me. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. "I will live," cried Blueskin, with a look of the deadliest hatred at Wild, "to be revenged on you.
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