With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. She gulped for air merely, for it had been difficult to breathe with his hand almost cutting off the supply to her lungs. "Vot are you?" "Practising patience," growled Abraham. He was like a man beside himself. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation.
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