Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. She listened with growing apprehension to the tale that Gerald told, omitting any mention of pistols and daggers, and at the end delivered herself of various expletives highly unsuited to a lady of her advanced years. A blow from the iron bar instantly stretched the ruffian on the floor. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. .
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