She wanted to live. Blueskin drew the knife across his throat a second time, widening and deepening the wound; and wrenching back the head to get it into a more favourable position, would infallibly have severed it from the trunk, if the officers, who by this time had recovered from their terror, had not thrown themselves upon him, and withheld him. “Let us put the lamp out,” she said; “the flames are ever so much better for talking,” and Ann Veronica agreed. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. —'Why, hang every bailiff that sets a foot in your territories, and you're safe,' says I.
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