"There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. “Contrarily, you are sitting on a sepulcher of death! It 30 is only a matter of time before the Pestilence strikes here again, Gianfrancesco. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. From this night I shall pursue a different course; from this night his ruin may be dated. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. I'm his lieutenant,—Lieutenant Blueskin.
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