"You've been quizzing my friend Kent, I perceive, in your Burlington Gate. A few random students gawked at them in the hall. ’ ‘You mean I need not have said it? Damnation. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room. Besides, I thought you despised killing women. ” Mr. “In a sense—yes. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled.
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