‘Only me name,’ Kimble said apologetically. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. Suddenly Anna felt her hand seized and imprisoned in Courtlaw’s burning fingers. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. .
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