‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. ’ ‘Well, let us leave your name for the present. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. I know why.
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