’ Lucy was silent for a space, once again wearing that inscrutable expression. And it filled seven sheets of notepaper, each written only on one side. This had well nigh been the case with the carpenter. During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed. “You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her.
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