For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. She was the High Priestess. "Because it's not like you," was her answer. 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. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her.
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