At least for a time I am obliged to construe my carte blanche in that way, my dear lady.
And as I say, my conscience is my strictest officer." "Yes," she said, studying his face calmly with her steady dark eyes.
It was a face sensitive, although bony and lined; stern, though its owner still was young.

She noticed the reddish hair and beard, the florid skin, the blue eye set deep--a fighting eye, yet that of a visionary.
"You are a fanatic," she said.
"That is true.

You, yourself, are of my own kind.

You would kill me without tremor, if you had orders, and I--" "You would do as much!" "You are of my kind, Madam.

Yes; we both take orders from our own souls.