" "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter. Aliva Trencher. F. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. ‘Very inventive.
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