He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. Presently. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional. Run along while I rig up and get the part in my hair straight. There was no one stirring in the flats. But "fine" is the word. Playing became a way of escape. You’ll end there one day, mark my words.
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