"Set down the kid," roared Blueskin, savagely. His attention was focused on Melusine’s transfixed stare and he forgot to say any of the things he had planned to say. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. She wouldn't be able to pass by anywhere without folks turning their heads. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses.
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