She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. “You did your best to kill me,” he said. Putting his own construction upon this mute interchange of opinions, Jonathan ventured to observe, that it certainly was a very perplexing case, but that he thought something might be made of it, and, if left to him, he would undertake to manage the matter to the Master's entire satisfaction. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. Several people were passed out on the sectional sofa, and muffled noises emanated from other rooms indicating that the party’s embers were still smoldering, but John was nowhere to be seen.
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