‘You will not guess again?’ ‘No, no, I am quite out of ideas. A faint anticipation of triumph showed in his manner and a subdued excitement. And Gosse had been still there, so Martha said, and not in prison. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked.
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