And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. If I did not love you en désespoir, I would assuredly blow off your head. ’ A grimace crossed her face. She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. We married, and for a time we were happy. "You'd have hit it off better if you'd called her The Sow.
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