“For Heaven’s sake, Dunster, don’t let her out of the carriage, or hansom, or whatever she came in. Then you may have a bit of a chance. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. "Look at it!" he felt like screaming. 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.
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