Then it dawned. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. Now, he must have folks somewhere. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying.
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