“But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning.
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