” Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. "Stir a foot, at your peril. But this calm was more awful than the previous roaring of the blast. He did not move. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. ” The conversation hung.
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