Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. She simply refuses to see or hear from me again. And if sometimes I grow heady—and it's in the blood— remind me of this day when you took me out of hell—a thief.
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