‘If you shoot me,’ Gerald said quickly, throwing out a hand, ‘I shan’t be able to rescue you. ” She said as she rested her head against his chest, eyes unfocused on the fading sky. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. “The rest,” she said, holding tightly to his hands, “is the most important of all. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping.
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