That for the men lay near the Lodge, with which it was connected by a dark passage. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. 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. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. The ring's yours, and you're mine. “I had found her at last, and she shot me.
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