‘You’re not going to kill me this time. Of course, at home there would have been questions. Wood, furiously. "I know you'll not deceive me. I think it inadvisable—I don’t want an intimacy to spring up between you and a man of that type. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. Place a pistol at my ear, and shoot me, if I've told you false. " "The ways of Providence are inscrutable," observed Wood. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt.
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