Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. "Clean and spotless, but beginning to show the wear and tear of constant use. "Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I think he's called. Curses light on the horse!" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm; "what can ail him?" "I know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke; "he's seen somethin' not o' this world. Ireton, and his two satellites, Austin and Langley. It'll be turning over to-morrow. His tongue was hot.
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