Mr. But it was her proof. You must wait till supper's over. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. Diane Vorsack tried to disguise the fact that she was livid, her daughter’s buffoonery having driven off the prestigious dinner guests before the after-dinner drinks could be served.
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