Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. “Mere sensuality. Just speak the word," he added, drawing the knife significantly across his throat, "and I'll put it out of his power to do the same by your second. Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow.
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