"I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. His eyes caught at hers with passionate inquiries. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. A man came out, and walking recklessly, almost cannoned into Ennison. The man pulled up. I'll lay my life he's gone. ” Lucy said. " "Oh, that!" she said, with a deprecating gesture.
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