‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. He kept that, but the rest. What was the wench at? Yet he could not maintain this stand off forever. Life’s hard enough nowadays for an unprotected male. The entire family massacred.
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