Although Martha did not know it, she had her pistol and her daggers, and her knife. "Defend yourself!" cried Jack, drawing his sword. And probably the girl would wear herself out, too. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment.
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