She had never thought of him at all in that way before. Stanley pronounced, and seemed to hesitate whether he had not gone too far. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. They began the evening like usual, driving down highways and byways. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. He jumped back, wrenching the sword away. ‘What are the chances, do you think, of that thing being already cocked?’ ‘Probably not even loaded,’ suggested Hilary hopefully.
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