But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl. I couldn’t help the thought. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly.
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