“I thought I saw her in town to-day,” he said. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. Hastily, he reached for the door. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it.
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