“Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. The new-comer looked at Charcam. Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress.
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