As a dog eats grass. Her usual dignified reserve had availed her nothing. It was as if he could smell it on her. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. "What do you want?" he asked, in a gruff voice. His food lay untouched about his plate. "What's to be done next?" cried Blueskin, returning to Rachel, who was standing with Edgeworth Bess near the door.
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