" "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. She was practically an outcast, she had not even the ghost of a plan as to her future, and she had something less than five pounds in her pocket. ‘And if it was not for that imbecile of a Gérard, who has put his soldiers to watch for me, it would not need that I make it. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. ’ ‘That is what you think? Let us try!’ ‘Don’t be idiotic!’ She was backing from him, reaching through one of the slits she had carefully manufactured in her petticoat.
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