‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles. Only the major won’t have it, and we’ve to bide by what the major says. After all, life had still its pulsations. At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread. Then instantly she got out of bed and proceeded to dress.
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