There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. "Of course," responded the widow, heaving a deep sigh. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. In a momentary fury she seized and tore in pieces the study which remained upon the easel. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side.
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