‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright. Enfeebled by his wound, Wild had lost much of his strength, though nothing of his ferocity and energy,—and fiercely assailing Blueskin, he made a desperate but unsuccessful attempt to apprehend him. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel.
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