” “What?” “That’s the devil of it!” “Devil of what?. The chance it is the same for both. “You’ve interested me enormously. ’ Then she whisked from the room, hearing Lucilla utter a delighted squeal as she closed the door behind her. I had that coming. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. "Your name is Spurlock?" "It is.
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