Her eyes threatened to leak tears, she blinked. Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. “I’m not going to kill you, John. “Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely. . There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes.
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