’ A reluctant laugh escaped him. " "Is she alive?" repeated the widow. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. ” He did not look at her. Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. 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.
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