But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. Perhaps the boys had already faced off and he had missed it, he thought sourly. The noose was at its throat when I called for help. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face.
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