“John,” she declared, “I must eat or die. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. And if I don’t, I go mad. He had done it. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power.
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