” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. ‘Comment? What do you say?’ Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments.
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