Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. "Let me go first," said Blueskin; "the dogs know me. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns.
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