" "It was her own fault," observed Blueskin, moodily. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. He sat down. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. Yes, yes; that was all very well in ordinary cases; but yonder was a soul in travail, if ever she had seen one. You would steal from me then the only man I ever cared a snap of the fingers about.
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