Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Just speak the word," he added, drawing the knife significantly across his throat, "and I'll put it out of his power to do the same by your second. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. Ennison looked down on him in disgust.
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