“I meant it. It hit her just above the knee. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff. Saws, hammers, planes, axes, augers, adzes, chisels, gimblets, and an endless variety of tools were ranged, like a stand of martial weapons at an armoury, in racks against the walls. Her eyes seemed to be looking backwards. This is a case either of suicide or murder. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room.
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