Plote was sleeping or deaf. I want to ask you a plain question, and you must answer me faithfully. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. She listened with growing apprehension to the tale that Gerald told, omitting any mention of pistols and daggers, and at the end delivered herself of various expletives highly unsuited to a lady of her advanced years. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence.
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