” He slipped off the horse. "How?" cried her brother, starting. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. She fought him at first, screaming at him, but he did not relent. Remember, some day you and I are going to have that book. As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. “By Jove!” he exclaimed. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. In all this world there was no sacred ground that said to her: Return! She was of all human beings the most lonely.
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