On the same peg and evidently belonging to it was a black velvet Zouave jacket. “I wonder if there is anything wrong with my manners,” she said. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. The smile had become a laugh. Martha had not been pleased to find her spare one borrowed for that expedition when the major had found her outside the ballroom. The third item she took with a trembling hand by its waistbelt. After the dance, they went to a party.
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