" "The link of the chain next the staple is sawn through," said Ireton, stooping to examine Blueskin's fetters. ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. The guards, horse and foot, and constables formed a wide circle round it to keep off the mob. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. " "I'll never understand.
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