He looked at his port wine as though that tawny ruby contained the solution of the matter. ’ ‘I shall stop him,’ declared the old lady furiously. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. “Mary! What’s going on! Why are you crying?!” He commanded an answer in a worried and slightly irritated tone. " He smiled at her as he smiled at death, cheerfully. “Have you not heard?” she said. Certainly you have a reason.
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