But two weeks later he returned. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. ‘I’ll handle her better alone. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter. We shall have Mr. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. I snatched it up, pointed it blindly at him, and fired. She could stow away, go to a place where there were no people to eat and end her life.
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