Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. Take it, I tell you. It cuts. He gave you a poison.
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