Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks. The door was locked; but, with the bars of iron, it was speedily burst open. ‘And it is me you dare accuse? It is yourself you should arrest. ‘Do you think because you’ve managed to pull a gun on me—not to mention several daggers and a vicious little knife— that you can get away with it against a man who means business?’ ‘Do you think that the trigger I would not have pulled, or stuck the dagger into you, if you had not been as you are?’ she countered. “This is the slavery of the veiled life.
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