” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. "I do," replied Kneebone. This was his sister, evidently in the last extremity. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked.
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