Mark stayed away from Lucy, which was just as Sheila liked it. She donned her gloves. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. 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. I need not counsel you to avoid those fatal courses which have placed you in such fearful jeopardy. "There won't be much left for you," he said.
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