Jonathan's vexation at the disappointment was expressed in the bitterest imprecations, and he returned as speedily as he could to the trench. Caution forced her to speak calmly. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation. Queens and Kings, as always, were made to be manipulated. “Sooner or later, John, it will come to that. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,—I'd never betray him. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver.
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