“I shot him. Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. The benches running round the room, though fastened to the walls by iron clamps, had been forcibly wrenched off; while the table, which was similarly secured to the boards, was upset, and its contents—bottles, jugs, glasses, and bowls were broken and scattered about in all directions. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. He gripped one of her pert nipples with his fingers as he came inside her. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. I didn’t believe him and I said so. Expiation.
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