And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. You have taken my dagger. Do you think that it makes for happiness to force oneself into the extravagant belief that love is the only thing in the world worth having, and to sacrifice for it independence, self-respect, one’s whole scheme of life. She helped him take it off. On examining his pockets, he found about twenty guineas in gold, and some silver. He understood. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. “It was not necessary,” Sir John answered stiffly. I want to fill it with fine and precious things.
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