“I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. Then it dawned. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. . It was Blueskin. The child has sprung into a youth; the youth has become a man; the man has already begun to feel the advances of age.
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