" "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. Remember! not a word!" So saying, he huddled the mantle over Wood's shoulders, dashed the lantern to the ground, and extinguished the light. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. "If we take him, I don't mind giving you a share—say a fourth—provided you lend a helping hand.
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