See paragraph 1. She made no answer, and for a time he debated some problems with himself. The day comes when you shall regret how you have spoken to me. “What ought she to do?” “Suppose you—” “Yes, suppose I—” He felt that his advice was being asked. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. And look down, so. 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. "Our talking will not bother him.
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