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’ ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong. Get all ready for his reception. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. “You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. But I'll be more lenient, and content myself with merely chastising you, on condition—" "You may do as you please, master," interrupted Jack, thrusting his hand into his pocket, as if in search of the knife; "but I wouldn't advise you to lay hands on me again. “I might go home, I don’t know. " "It is," answered Wood.

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