’ Her lashes fluttered. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. The deafening report froze time. An early bird clarinetist burst through in a long black skirt, swishing like a bell. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. I must have something in hand. Practically.
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