Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. "In my opinion," remarked Kneebone, "it doesn't matter how soon society is rid of two such scoundrels; and if Blueskin dies by the rope, and Jonathan by the hand of violence, they'll meet the fate they merit. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. She had no intention of fighting fair. But I don't understand her; she's over my head.
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