out of the ten or twelve people one meets in a month not only say but feel and assume a thing, it is very hard not to fall into the belief that the thing is so. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. Little more’n a week. The pistol was his own, it is true, but it was one which was taken from him when he forced his way in upon me before.
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