The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. "I cannot remain here long. Let us be gone. As soon as Jack gained his legs, he perceived Blueskin lying, as he thought, dead in the plantation, with a severe cut across his temples, and while he was stooping to assist him, he heard groans at a little distance. Jack was lying so still, for a moment she panicked. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. “You love some one else?” he repeated. It's exactly like a miniature I have in my pocket.
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