"Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You should have gone to Charvill. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. His expression became pained. Many little things had contributed to that decision. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. Get the pole out of your ass.
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