Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. Then the dagger’s point came in a whirling arc towards his face. Lucy kicked her side, then her wounded leg, dislodging her. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. “Mom, this is the girl I asked to Prom, Lucy.
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