He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features. ‘Then mayhap this will persuade you!’ With a scrape of steel, he drew his sword from its scabbard. ‘That is my mother. What is it you’re after? Money, I suppose. The fire still burned brightly. You will forgive my remarking, Anna, that I consider there is a great change in your manner towards me and your general deportment since our marriage. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose.
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