Piano wire, stained with black rust from the horrible deeds she had committed. “You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. I might add that in any case I should not touch Sir John’s. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target.
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