For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. A nurse was at the other end of the room. His technique had gained much subtlety over the years. ‘Then mayhap this will persuade you!’ With a scrape of steel, he drew his sword from its scabbard. I seed he was one,—and a sharp un, too,—at a glance. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside.
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