’ He took a pace forward, seizing the gun with one hand, while the other locked her arm so that he could forcibly wrest the weapon from her. Lucy had tried for years to find a way of not getting blood all over herself when she made a kill. He was an imaginative young man. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. He looked distant, irritated.
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