"I was going to die, Hoddy!" she whispered. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. On gaining a stack of chimneys at the back of the house, he came to a pause, and again unmasked his lantern. We were going at a mad pace. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved.
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