The man could put a bullet through her before she could hope to reach any one of them. It was the first expression of the mother's blood. He would take her with great force. She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally.
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