She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground. " "'Zounds!" cried the executioner, in astonishment. He has a grand time.
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