“Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. Certain reserves went down on both sides. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia.
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