‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack. . "Can't you guess?" returned Winifred, throwing her arms about her neck. There was no answer. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. 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. She withdrew her head with a little moan, and resumed her flight.
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