He opened the drawer of the writing table. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. It is one of God’s laws that a woman may defend her honour, even with the shedding of blood. “Well, I don’t want you to talk to him,” he said, very firmly. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony.
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