But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. ’ Roding gave a bark of derisive laughter and left the room. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. “Nice sleeve,” she said, and came to his hand and kissed it. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. Drawing the pay of life and then not living. Home!— which I never hoped to see again.
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