"What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. 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. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. Through a blur of tears Ruth followed the rocking light until it vanished.
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