Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. ‘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. " There was a momentary and terrible silence, broken only by a few feeble groans. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. My only love is for my poor lost son.
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