” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. "Yes … but dreadfully tired. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. ’ She bit her lip and thought deeply. “We will see that he doesn’t follow you.
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