" "If in my power—certainly. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. Drummond nodded. All sorts of battered tramps, junks and riff-raff of the seas trailed in and out. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity.
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