“He was becoming bossy even with her, which brought her to the saloon to complain. We took her into our confidence regarding the necklace and asked for her forbearance at this time. She was marble-constant, as usual. Brodagan would not complain if we murdered the archbishop. “You may be sure as soon as the matter is straightened out, he will be dismissed,” Mama promised. “My sorrow!” she declared, black eyes gleaming fiercely. “A viper in our own bosom. Him in his grand black suit, looking like ...his nose would bleed if you said boo to him. He’s no better than a thief hisself, squeezing money out of a widow. He wants the good wine brought up to his cubbyhole, if you please. I’d sooner part with my eyes than let him have Mr. Barron’s good claret.” “Since Mr. Barron no longer has need of it...” Mama said. “That old rack-pot is to have ambrosia then, while the rest of us belowstairs make do with small beer?” Brodagan asked, with a gimlet glance that would cut forged steel.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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