As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. She recoiled. "And I," muttered Jack. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. You must have repented a little, or you would not have done that. Husband of mine, I think we have rather overrated the emotional capacity of those—those dears.
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