‘Here you, Pottiswick. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. “Oh my God! You sounded like my Grandma just now! How did you do that?” He asked, shocked. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. ‘Bête. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. She leaned back in her chair. Though it’s very kind of you.
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