"Curse him!" muttered Abraham. ‘Not yet, madame. " Quilt, however, seemed unwilling to speak. ‘He don’t mean you no harm. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. He yelled to her, asking her if she wished to have a drink with him, which she refused. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared.
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