The asylum was approached by a broad gravel walk, leading through a garden edged on either side by a stone balustrade, and shaded by tufted trees. "It is past," said Jack, placing his finger on the trigger. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. "Jump!" cried Ben, in a voice of thunder.
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