His frowning gaze came back to her. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. None saw, though all felt, his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice. She looked upon it with pity as she drank his diabetic blood and saw that several of his fingers were missing. “Time for my Patience,” she said. He had buckled on his hanger, and had two brace of pistols in his belt, as well as others in this holsters. She was in deadly earnest in everything she did.
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