"I can't die. I'm afraid to die. It will hurt, and I've been
wicked. Oh, you are not going to kill me, are you?"
"Yes, I am going to kill you," he answered. "I told you months ago
that I would kill you if you molested me. You have ruined me now,
there is nothing but death left for /me/, and /you/ shall die too, you
fiend."
"Oh no! no! no! anything but that. I was drunk when I did it; that man
brought me there, and they had taken all my things, and I was
starving," and she glanced wildly round the empty carriage to see if
help could be found, but there was none. She was alone with her fate.
She slipped down upon the floor of the carriage and clasped his knees.
Writhing in her terror upon the ground, in hoarse accents she prayed
for mercy.
"You used to kiss me," she said; "you cannot kill a woman you used to
kiss years ago. Oh, spare me, spare me!"
He set his lips and placed the muzzle of the pistol against her head.
She shivered at the contact, and her teeth began to chatter.
He could not do it. He must let her go, and leave her to fate. After
all, she could hurt him no more, for before another sun had set he
would be beyond her reach.
His pistol hand fell against his side, and he looked down with
loathing not unmixed with pity at the abject human snake who was
writing at his feet.
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