” He said. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik.
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