" "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. She saw it, and checked without thinking. She acted as her mother had taught her to. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. "I've not quite done yet," said Jonathan, as he joined the turnkeys. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. The door leaned inward.
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