He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. She stood up before him, smiling faintly. But he had scarcely advanced a step, when he was felled to the ground by a blow from the powerful arm of Kneebone, who, instantly possessing himself of a pistol, levelled it at Jackson's head. ’ ‘Forgive me, but if that is the case, I don’t quite see why you should run away.
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