“Ugh!” she said. " "You are heiress to the Trenchard property," rejoined Jonathan, "one of the largest estates in Lancashire. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on. ‘Do you think because you’ve managed to pull a gun on me—not to mention several daggers and a vicious little knife— that you can get away with it against a man who means business?’ ‘Do you think that the trigger I would not have pulled, or stuck the dagger into you, if you had not been as you are?’ she countered. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song.
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