Sir Rowland laid his hand upon his sword. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. Why should I peep at it through smoked glass to see things that don’t affect me?” He smiled his delight at his companion.
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