Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. Earles waiting. Run along now; but return in half an hour. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. “If I cut her neck, you’ll never get the stains out of your fancy car. She had told Emile. I feel years younger, a man again.
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