The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. ” She seated herself in a loose and easy attitude and surveyed the backs of the Avenue houses; then her eyes wandered to where the new red-and-white villas peeped among the trees. He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters. She shot a sudden glance at him. If the creator drew a hero anything like himself, she would accept it as a sign that he did care a little. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. Had he not said so? Not that she wished him to marry her. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh.
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