She felt she was bound in honor to tell the whole affair to Manning sooner or later. "Do you think I'd part with the sweetest morsel of revenge on those terms? No! But I'll have the secret out of you by other means. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter.
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