But Gerald took it for the routine interest in an eligible bachelor, although he was aware many females had an eye for scarlet regimentals. ‘You said she was beautiful. Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill.
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