CHAPTER VII The astonishing collapse of Spurlock created a tableau of short duration. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. "Nothin'—nothin'," returned Blueskin; "only I thought—" "You saw the hangman, no doubt," said Jack. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs.
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