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Never glance sideways at man. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. As soon as the latter beheld him, she uttered a loud scream, and fainted. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf.
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