Her head was high, and her level gaze never wavered
from his own eyes. Presently a sneer of contempt curled her
lip.
"You coward!" she said quietly. "To insult and threaten a
woman! You are nothing but an insufferable bully, and a
cowardly murderer. You murdered a man on the Lotus whose
little finger held more true manhood, bravery, and worth than
the whole of your great, hulking carcass. You are only fit to
strike from behind, or when your victim is unsuspecting, as
you did Mr. Theriere that other day. Do you think I fear a
THING such as you--a beast without honor that kicks an
unconscious man in the face? I know that you can kill me. I
know that you are coward enough to do it because I am a
defenseless woman; and though you may kill me, you never
can make me show fear for you. That is what you wish to
do--that is your idea of manliness. I had never imagined
that such a thing as you lived in the guise of man; but I have
read you, Mr. Byrne, since I have had occasion to notice you,
and I know now that you are what is known in the great
cities as a mucker. The term never meant much to me before,
but I see now that it fits your kind perfectly, for in it is all the
loathing and contempt that a real man--a gentleman--must
feel for such as you.
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