But he had scarcely advanced a step, when he was felled to the ground by a blow from the powerful arm of Kneebone, who, instantly possessing himself of a pistol, levelled it at Jackson's head. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. Is Jack what Mrs. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed.
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