"Ye-ah," said O'Higgins, jovially. But a far greater affliction was in store for her. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. He knew what he knew. Wild of the circumstance. ‘Inside, miss!’ ‘But what is it?’ ‘Quick! We need the major.
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