She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. ” He said as Cathy took his coat and alternately handed him back his bouquet of red roses. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. ‘I am glad it is you, because you can help me. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face.
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