At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. ‘This is altogether insupportable!’ She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol. And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me. ” “Perhaps,” she said, “I am superstitious.
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