I get along with my Mom sometimes, Lucy. I spoke a thought aloud. Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. “Are you aware, Ann Veronica, you nearly throttled that gentleman?” Then she reviled her own foolish way of putting it. Here, it might be anything at all. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword.
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