Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty. ” He took an optimist view of her chances. Catching hold of his chin, he bent back the neck, while with his left hand he pulled out a clasp knife, which he opened with his teeth, and grasping Wild's head with his arm, notwithstanding his resistance, cut deeply into his throat. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. " "For whom, Sir?" inquired Charcam.
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