” “I don’t know who you are,” Ennison said quietly, “but you are a thundering liar. ‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. What of it?” There was a shout of laughter. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. Was the girl seriously expecting him to pull the trigger? Lord, but she had courage! ‘Shoot, then,’ urged the lady.
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