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The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. Now I’ll tell you what I propose. I believe—I believe that I must risk it. "But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face.
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