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Updated: May 18, 2025
Her gaze was glued to his face. Terror and pain were strangling his throat until his eyes grew death-dark in the struggle. Tessibel lifted her ashen face, wildly working in entreaty. Oh, for a little faith! Faith the size of a grain of mustard seed! And Daddy Skinner would be gone to that place beyond the clouds and the blue, where suffering is not. Did he, could he, believe?
It was death-dark outside the bronze-hinged double gate; only a dim lamp hung above from chains, to show how dark it was, and the moon cut off by trees and houses on a bluff of rising ground lent nothing to the gloom. "Open! The jaimihr-sahib comes!" shouted Alwa and one of his horsemen legged up close beside the gate.
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