"Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. He had reacted by laughing at her, informing her coolly that she was naïve in many things. " So saying, he closed the door.
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