Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. ” She took his hand and smiled upon him. ” There was never any shortage of bad men to eat, especially with pestilence and superstition to cover their tracks. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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