But I swear she ain’t told me nothing more, sir. I tell you this child would have been strangled. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. I won’t try. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. "Come out!" roared Quilt, looking into the aperture. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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