Baffled in their attempt, the mob uttered a roar, such as only a thousand angry voices can utter, and discharged a volley of missiles at the soldiery. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. I saw the blood come as he rolled over. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up.
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