His sword done with, he took up the bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table. For each costume she had devised a suitable form of matrimonial refusal. “My Mom never gets a good night’s sleep. She hoped the lights would become hot enough to melt her into the floor. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp.
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