The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. Recovery impossible. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her.
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