” The man smiled at him. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. ‘What are the chances, do you think, of that thing being already cocked?’ ‘Probably not even loaded,’ suggested Hilary hopefully. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. Wood; but they never come now.
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