To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. On that basis alone, he had no right to give or accept love. “Are you free tomorrow? Should I call?” He asked. It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. He laughs at locks and bolts; and the more carefully you guard your premises from him, the more likely are you to insure an attack.
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