" "Suppose he brings Blueskin, or some other ruffian with him," hesitated the jailer. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. Whenever ecstasy— any kind of ecstasy—filled her heart to bursting, these physical expressions eased the pressure. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them.
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