When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. It ought not to be much. ‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. She tried for her usual confident tone, but only succeeded in sounding gruff, even to her own ears.
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