Foolish compliments were tossed about like confetti. On the way home he was still thoughtful. Blueskin drew the knife across his throat a second time, widening and deepening the wound; and wrenching back the head to get it into a more favourable position, would infallibly have severed it from the trunk, if the officers, who by this time had recovered from their terror, had not thrown themselves upon him, and withheld him. None this end. No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast.
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