A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. I shall barely be in time for the theatre. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. " "What for?" demanded the turnkey. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold.
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