One of the scars is on my forehead still.

See." And Dacres put aside his hair on the top of his head, just over his right eye, and showed a long red mark, which seemed like the scar of a dangerous wound.
"It was an ugly blow," he continued.

"I at once tore the whip from her, and, grasping her hand, led her into the drawing-room.

There I confronted her, holding her tight.

I dare say I was rather a queer sight, for the blood was rushing down over my face, and dripping from my beard.
"'Look here, now,' I said; 'do you know any reason why I shouldn't lay this whip over your shoulders?
The English law allows it.