"Now's your time," cried Blueskin, struggling desperately with his assailants and inflicting severe cuts with his knife. Henceforth, I utterly throw off the yoke you have laid upon me. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. \" Lucy felt her face go hot, but at the same time raised her eyebrows, relaying a tacit acknowledgement of her own distressed appearance.
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