He frowned. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. He pressed the bloody wrist into her mouth, and she though she could not feel it or 72 control it, she knew she was being made to swallow. And there's your liver. In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. ’ Then he bowed, raising his hat in salute and, crossing to the coach, spoke briefly to its driver and leapt into it without looking back.
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