She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. " "So she may," returned Jack, brightening up; "it's a good idea. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. And I do not know you. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. Mr. Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence.
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