‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. "I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you. . I can remove the prisoner at any hour of the night I think fit: and I will remove him.
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