“It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. That's the way it goes. He was an odd one, especially for a young man. She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot.
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