She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. I haven't forgotten her previous history. “Please go and see that—nothing happens,” she pleaded. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon.
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