'" "Slave?" echoed Jack. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. Sheppard. Kind of knows it, too. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady.
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