Mr. Wood struck me a blow which made me a robber. The risk I run is nothing to yours. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. She took hand cannon and began to arm it. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. The dog-fox cannot be far off, since the cub is found.
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