The struggle was brief, and Gerald stepped aside, the pistol in his possession, while the girl Melusine stood trembling and glaring. “Neither Sydney nor I would think of such a thing. He rolled on top of her, pinning her with his arms and forming a tented cage. I couldn't accept anything from you. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. He hated himself a little for it. I’ll do it. She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table.
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