His manner was deferential, even eager. “You have forgotten. As the Wastrel rushed, Spurlock sidestepped, swept the ball into his hand, set himself and threw it. But I'll be more lenient, and content myself with merely chastising you, on condition—" "You may do as you please, master," interrupted Jack, thrusting his hand into his pocket, as if in search of the knife; "but I wouldn't advise you to lay hands on me again. ” She laid her hand softly upon his.
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