A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. It was instantly burst open, when the horrible stench that issued from it convinced them that it must be a receptacle for the murdered victims of the thief-taker. “But that’s quite different,” replied Anna. \" Lucy replied sardonically. "Vot are you?" "Practising patience," growled Abraham. ‘Until today. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action.
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