Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. "Curse you! Where are the bailiffs? Rot you! have you lost your tongue? Devil seize you! you could bawl loud enough a moment ago!" "Silence, Blueskin!" interposed an authoritative voice, immediately behind the ruffian.
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