But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. “Let’s go. ’ Charvill eyed the girl with resentment. But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. We are in love. Myn Got! haanging runs in some families, Muntmeester. Brother and Sister. You see, I’m selfish.
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