He was in great pain and it meant that he would be in casts for twelve weeks. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. "Without proper medical care, he would have been dead by morning. Never mind. You make of me once more a game? Eh bien, I have told your friend that I will kill you, and if you will give me my dagger this minute, I shall do so at once. But I'll not believe it of you. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling.
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