But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. Probably his first serious bout with John Barleycorn. "You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely,—nay, more, you shall have an hour's grace. I was worried. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song.
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