He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. “There is my aunt,” she said. But here’s what is different this time. “Here, dis is for you. It is very possible that he will ask you to tell him before witnesses how you received your wound. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. Although Martha did not know it, she had her pistol and her daggers, and her knife. And he did not lack courage.
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