Sir Rowland waved his hand, and the attendant withdrew. She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen. He looked exactly as she had dreamed him, handsome, rigidly dressed in a black suit, his hair still half gray, his eyes green and flashing like a cat’s. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, pervert?” “Yes sir.
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