. And I think I will indeed blow off your imbecile head. ’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. ” “Thank you very much,” Anna said. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. "At length, my vengeance is complete.
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