’ Footsteps sounded just outside, and Captain Roding walked in. She blew on the hand cannon and grabbed her bag of gunpowder. He hated horizons. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. “You found the cabochon? After all these years?” He asked, incredulous. But a time will come (and that before long,) when our sex will assert its superiority; and, when we have got the upper hand, let 'em try to subdue us if they can. She became more assertive, more defiant.
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