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The boy had contracted the Death, and it was from his brother, and in that moment he knew it, and dashed to where Connor stood at the lake shore, and stripped away his tippet, and saw there upon his brother’s neck the plague scars.

‘Con! You knew! All the time you were sick! And you knew!’ Connor could say nothing. ‘How could you have come back?’ And he who had never shouted at his brother shouted now with such mortal hurt as would haunt Connor forever.