” She looked at him doubtfully. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. " "Your hesitation is not in your favour," observed Trenchard, sternly. ” “We might even have—given it up for them!” “I wonder if we could. "No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere.
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