” “Well?” “Lunch! I am hungry—tragically hungry. No, you don’t!” Ennison had moved stealthily a little nearer to him, and looked suddenly into the dark muzzle of the revolver. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. Mr. Mr.
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