She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk. Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs. “For your own sake, let me beg of you not to stay for a moment. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly.
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