"What for?" demanded Wood. You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master. If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. She saw its depraved eyes, but worse were the glittering teeth as it smiled. He had offered to escort the young lady to England where she might seek refuge with her relations there, and proposed that the maid Yolande might serve Miss Charvill.
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