They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. I MUST pay off that forty pounds. ‘Do you think because you’ve managed to pull a gun on me—not to mention several daggers and a vicious little knife— that you can get away with it against a man who means business?’ ‘Do you think that the trigger I would not have pulled, or stuck the dagger into you, if you had not been as you are?’ she countered. I'm almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster.
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