"Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. " "Then I must wait a long time," grumbled Blueskin. " "Others may, if you won't," muttered Jack, retiring. “Besides, it is not so. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. And, to show you that I have no intention of flying, I will myself close and lock the door. A silence ensued. I am not boring you, am I?” She raised her eyes to his and smiled into his face. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say.
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