He had not to wait long. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. "Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. “No! I want to do without that. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room.
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