“Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. ” “Delusion!” he muttered, glaring at her. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. Phillips Oppenheim’s most intriguing stories. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her.
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