He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. " "Power o' mercy!" cried Blueskin starting. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken. Montressor’s guests were.
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