Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. He brightened as she took off her hood. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. ’ ‘You wouldn’t,’ agreed Mrs Sindlesham. "Spring!—I never knew any.
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