And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. "Devil!" cried Jack; "that blow shall cost you your life. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. "This she-devil has got hold of the sack. It feels like it. " "Alice in Wonderland!" cried Prudence, perhaps a little enviously.
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