There was no need to be afraid for me. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. “But about last night. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched.
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