It was hard to associate her with the stories which he and all Paris had heard of “Alcide. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. ‘In fact you admitted only that you had no more weapons. ‘I don’t want to hurt you any more. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart.
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