” “Where?” He asked. "My friends, Mr. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. Lucy's grin faded. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. “It was inevitable,” he declared. I had been about as foolish and selfish as a girl could be. You know the sort of thing.
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