" "Fine!" said O'Higgins, jovially. . “Shut up, you little faggot. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. And Blueskin, who, for a moment, had looked round distrustfully, concluding it was a feint, now laughed louder than ever.
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