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"Past noon," replied Blueskin. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. Such was the effect produced upon the passengers by his good looks and manly deportment, that few—especially of the gentler and more susceptible sex—failed to turn round and bestow a second glance upon the handsome stranger.
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