His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. "Good night!" "Blueskin," whispered Jack, in his natural tones, as the other passed him, "wait without. Besides the table close by loaded with books, there was a central table with upright chairs around, covered in a multitude of papers, inks and quills, and assorted unrelated items such as playing cards.
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