His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. “I wonder if it is. ” Annabel laughed gaily. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. "But I can guess what it's for. ” He followed up a line of thought.
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