I kicked the living shit out of him. He flew to the window, and would have passed his sword through the thief-taker's body, if the latter had not quickly interposed the person of Mrs. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love.
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