He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. And yet, the doctor recalled an expression of the girl's: that it was not a dissipated face, only troubled. Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently.
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