” “It is a conspiracy,” she exclaimed. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. It had ceased to beat. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. The proposal is so far from being exorbitant, that it should be trebled if I had not a fellow-feeling in the cause.
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