"She may yet be saved. “Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully. “Not much,” he answered, “and yet about all there is to be known, I fancy. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it. The horns were the worst, slipping in and out of tune and rushing the easy sections, fighting everyone else. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again.
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