Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. He thought rationally; that is to say, he thought clearly, as a child thinks clearly. To have sprung this upon them to-night would have been worth a thousand pounds. Why do you look so sad?” She opened her eyes wider and stifled her emotions.
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