That she was provoked by his interference was obvious. The asylum was approached by a broad gravel walk, leading through a garden edged on either side by a stone balustrade, and shaded by tufted trees. 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. “None, I thank you,” he answered. She looked, Dorothée said, just as she always looks. Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles.
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