She was chic, distinguished, unusual. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. ‘Do you think because you’ve managed to pull a gun on me—not to mention several daggers and a vicious little knife— that you can get away with it against a man who means business?’ ‘Do you think that the trigger I would not have pulled, or stuck the dagger into you, if you had not been as you are?’ she countered. “The real reason why I am out of place here,” she said, “is because I like men. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky.
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