The Mohocks XII. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. He would condemn her to the vengeance of the mob all for refusing to marry him. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. The little matter of an accent may be misleading, I grant you, but —’ He was interrupted, and with impatience.
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