He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. When I absorb a fact, my brain weighs the fact carefully and stores it away. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand.
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