"What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. "I shall breathe more freely dere. You must know that. " "Mr. Hobson was not 147 amused by the situation, which handled wrongly, could lose him his job. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. ” She made her glasses glint. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. His tone was rough, almost threatening.
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