The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. . "I'm surprised Mr. Kneebone began to dispense the fragrant fluid; begging Mrs. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. “Will they worry about you getting caught in a storm?” She asked him as she viewed black clouds floating in different directions. Jack was lying so still, for a moment she panicked.
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