But this time she wanted nothing for herself: she wanted something for Hoddy—success. ‘Then mayhap this will persuade you!’ With a scrape of steel, he drew his sword from its scabbard. I’ve wanted you—always. He filled her glass with champagne. Immediately behind this individual, came a pale, poverty-stricken woman, whose forlorn aspect contrasted strongly with his plump and comfortable physiognomy. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. A thousand eager assistants pressed behind him. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved.
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