To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. Not so bad. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. She leaned back as he climbed on top of her and kissed her mouth again. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest.
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