Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song. Pragmar probably knew Mr. Darell's peculiar bent of mind was exemplified in a rusty broadsword, a tall grenadier's cap, a musket without lock or ramrod, a belt and cartouch-box, with other matters evincing a decided military taste. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together.
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