This girl whom he had met by chance and befriended had done both. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. "Blueskin," said Ireton. His smile faded. "He has heard of your wonderful escapes, and wishes to see what you're like. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions.
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