Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. ‘Good God!’ uttered Roding. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. ’ She advanced towards him. It is like some accident. There was no way to warn her of his presence without startling her. I must!” She threw open the door and pointed to it. " "I see. You must not, however, accompany me, Jack.
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