The Chapel 401 XX. " "What am I to do to earn it?" asked Blueskin, with a disgusting leer,—"cut a throat—or throw myself at your feet—eh, my dear?" "Give me that child," returned the lady, with difficulty overcoming the loathing inspired by the ruffian's familiarity. He not only did this, but supplied him with an ointment which allayed the swelling of his limbs, and crowned all by furnishing him with a jug of excellent ale. She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat.
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