His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. ” “Upon my word,” he declared, “you are right. He wasn't satisfied with an assured income from the paper-mills your grandfather left us. And Rollo, who had been waiting for some encouraging sound, presented himself at the doorway. " Upon which he drew the trigger of the pistol, which, luckily for the individual against whom it was aimed, flashed in the pan. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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