He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. Spurlock had not coached her on this line of conduct. "It is past," said Jack, placing his finger on the trigger. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. Don't be frightened of her. And yet, dang it! I've seen 'em just as innocent looking that were prime vipers. ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. ‘At least I couldn’t say for sure.
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