'" "Slave?" echoed Jack. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger. " "As many as you please, Sir Rowland," replied Jonathan, resuming his seat. His age was not far from fifty. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing.
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