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Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. With the same inducements we should all do the same thing. ‘But a week and some days,’ answered Valade. It was a grand life.
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