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His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. " "Now for it!—life or death!" exclaimed Jack, assuming the gait of a female, and stepping towards the door. And Gosse had been still there, so Martha said, and not in prison. "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know.
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