The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek. "Hush!" said she, in a low, but agitated voice; "would you earn this purse?" "I've no objection," replied Blueskin, in a tone intended to be gentle, but which sounded like the murmuring whine of a playful bear.
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