Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife. "A bad business this, Van," observed Baptist, with a prolonged shake of the head. Nigel! You have not forgotten. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. Perhaps that other boy who visited you backstage at the concert. They are long gone.
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