[He doesn't recall the exact circumstances which led him to be delivered to her Ladyship's house; certainly that wasn't what began those terrible dreams, for they were led him to her (or her to him). But he remembers still the dark shape of them—not, surely, because the wolf in his nightmare had been so significant as to warrant the memory, but because her Ladyship had made it so with her hands on a small boy's shoulders and by lying, 'There is no beast, Mister Ralston.']

I know already that your General Kirigan is dangerous. [It's why he'd selected him, wasn't it?] It would be far more useful for you to warn me which direction the blow may come from.

[His dark eyes alight briefly to that string of antlers about her neck, lingering for a moment in an impulsive attempt to puzzle out the strange shape of them and the pressure exuded by them onto the world; it reminds him of something, but he can't recall what. Abraxas is all full to bursting with the arcane and sorting one thing from another is diligent work. Then, quick as falling, his attention rises back to her pettish face.]

You'll forgive me for saying so but you've given me very little reason to trust you, little nameless beast.