There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. My little maidservant will think that I am lost. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady.
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