"Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. ‘But that is easy. He filled the rôle of comrade which Spurlock dared not enact, at least not utterly as he would have liked. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe.
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