"What's to be done next?" cried Blueskin, returning to Rachel, who was standing with Edgeworth Bess near the door. “I’ll go,” he said, “but I warn you that I shall find you out. She was obliged to concede that his features were pleasing, his strength and vitality attractive; and there was no denying how well this uniform of a militia suited his figure, which was lean and powerful both. She had felt deserving of the punishment, as he had been mainly concerned that she would be killed by accidentally falling into the pit, but it was a terrible insult. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least.
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