Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. ‘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. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other. ” She looked at him, pleading, miserable in her fancy gown.
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