" "Power o' mercy!" cried Blueskin starting. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. He did make her perceive something of the acute, tormenting desire for her that had arisen in him and possessed him. But the relief from the strain of her immediate necessities was immense. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations.
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