“I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. But God will punish you for what you have done this day. ‘Very well, Kimble. " "It's light. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving the threatening pistol. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless.
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