There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. ‘Do you think because you’ve managed to pull a gun on me—not to mention several daggers and a vicious little knife— that you can get away with it against a man who means business?’ ‘Do you think that the trigger I would not have pulled, or stuck the dagger into you, if you had not been as you are?’ she countered. You have the ideas. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another. “One hardly knows—all the time. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash.
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