Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. Capes scored back with an uncompromising vigor that was his way of complimenting her intelligence. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. ‘This is not love, Marthe. . He did not speak for a moment. Consent to become my wife, and do not compel me to have recourse to violence to effect my purpose, and I will spare your son. This he carried on by procuring witnesses to swear away the lives of those persons who had incurred his displeasure, or whom it might be necessary to remove. “It’s—private. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction. “Just forget it, Lucy! Keep your secrets to yourself!” He stomped out, slamming the heavily paneled oak door.
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