"Come on, my lads!" vociferated Blueskin, "we'll unkennel the old fox. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. That’s got his nerves to rags. Go on. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. Whether they are loved or unloved has no bearing upon this desire to test their wings, to try this new adventure, to take this leap into the dark. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object.
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