Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. ’ He reddened a little, and shuffled his feet. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. From midnight until morning he was now left alone. His fatigue was tacitly understood within the family; it was a phenomenon which everyone acknowledged as related to the trades.
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