“Is this a concession to Mrs. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. You jumped, and I think that you left me. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. He was an imaginative young man. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald.
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