’ The lady’s gaze dwelled thoughtfully on the half-drawn sword and then came up to meet his, an odd look in her eyes. ’ ‘You’re going?’ asked his friend, and the note of relief was marked. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. ’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain. “Let me get you some water, Annabel. “Are you free tomorrow? Should I call?” He asked. “Here is my card.
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