Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. Horrible doubts assailed her. "Ah! you are there, my dear young lady," said the widow, smiling faintly; "when I first waken, I'm always in dread of finding myself again in that horrible asylum. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. . You know all this stuff is insured.
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