John’s demeanor shifted. ‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre. Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. “She has improved her style,” someone declared. She would not be driven in by this persistent, sneaking aggression.
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