Last night there had been no time. See paragraph 1. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. Wood's famous 'prentice?" "What apprentice?" asked the stranger, in surprise. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. What is it?" "Guess," rejoined Blueskin, attempting to throw a gallant expression into his forbidding countenance.
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