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” “Blood of my heart!” whispered Capes, holding her close to him. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. . She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. Blueskin, who had evaded me with the papers and the money, is a prisoner here, and will perish on the same gallows as yourself. ’ ‘No, no,’ the other lady assured her with a twinkle. ‘Hang it all, Mrs Sindlesham is right! You are two of a kind.
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