“Don’t bunch too much as you come out,” she added. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. “No, I am alone,” she answered. She drew her naked arms around herself. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. . He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours. The old lady’s face was stiff with anger. "Take my life, if you're so disposed.
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