His face turned a dark crimson. ’ The lady’s gaze dwelled thoughtfully on the half-drawn sword and then came up to meet his, an odd look in her eyes. “It was fine and brave of you. “Can we watch television?” She asked. He smiled. “That’s what we narcs have to do. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather. He always followed by showering her with kisses, embracing her tightly as she squirmed and giggled. Still —there you are!” He paused.
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