‘You’re not going to kill me this time. ’ She released the pistol which lay in her lap and gestured expressively with her hands. He could not possibly lunge in the confined space, and so had nothing to do but back himself into the chapel as fast as he could. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. I must have something in hand.
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