” It occurred to her that she had never seen her father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. ” She rested the firing end of the cannon against her own temple. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. " "You had better write them for me, Mr. "I'd lay down my life for yours. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow.
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