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Tell Bess to slip out, and I'll put on her cloak and hood. Bête, she told herself fiercely. " "Mr. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. She closed her eyes more vividly to recall some line which had carried the blot. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger.
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