To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. I never saw a man who wasn't. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. The satisfaction of cheating Death again.
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