” Michelle sat in a yogi’s posture on the cold plywood, her eyes closed as if meditating. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. “Dear husband,” she murmured. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. Perhaps I ought to have let you order the dinner, but I think I got through it pretty well.
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