“It would have been rash and unwise,” she said at the end of a meditation. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. ’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. " "Oh! certainly," answered Griffin; "certainly.
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