The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too. ‘I think it is better if I hold the pistol.
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