With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. Sated, he rolled off her body and retired to his quarters. Humph. E. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. Better come another morning.
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