Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song. "Granted it were as you say, Jack," said Wild;—"and I sha'n't take the trouble to contradict you—the estates would be yours hereafter. "Joan! Joan!" vociferated he, "open the door, for God's sake, or I shall be murdered, and so will your babby! Open the door quickly, I say.
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