Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. “You’re an idiot and your attitude is repugnant. Are you prepared to do it?” Her hands clenched. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought.
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