It is not you who runs the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. But she did not in the least want to do that. Like a petulant child he snapped. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. I'm a poor nurse.
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