She perceived that his countenance was only composed by a great effort, his features severely compressed. When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica.
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