The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. Let’s go. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. "That's not an easy question to answer," rejoined Blueskin. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that.
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