Who could guarantee a safer existence outside Florence? That Sebastian seemed to have a weird immunity to the Pestilence was a trait that went unquestioned, unanswered. With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. He could not permit her to remain in that position. Her defence ceased rapidly to be in any sense ladylike, and became vigorous and effective; a strand of black hair that had escaped its hairpins came athwart Ramage’s eyes, and then the knuckles of a small but very hardly clinched fist had thrust itself with extreme effectiveness and painfulness under his jawbone and ear. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames.
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