Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. ’ The eyes flashed momentarily. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. "Who are you?" inquired Mrs. The Ragged Edge.
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