She loved to dress the Fritz and Anna in outfits that she stitched from discarded velvet dresses. "It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. "In my opinion," remarked Kneebone, "it doesn't matter how soon society is rid of two such scoundrels; and if Blueskin dies by the rope, and Jonathan by the hand of violence, they'll meet the fate they merit.
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