In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers. The three young men exchanged expressive glances. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. Not so bad. But machinery will never approach the hand. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol.
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