"Why didn't you come out when I called you, you young dog?" cried Quilt in a savage tone. He had looked at it before without comprehension. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. “Well, I do. This intelligence, which she instantly communicated to the carpenter, drove him almost frantic. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. “Maybe someday I can look them up again, just to see how they are doing.
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