She picked up the hand cannon. ” He glanced over at her cockeyed, and then returned his gaze to the road. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. “So how about this Friday?” He asked. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off.
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