He was going to tell me something— and he shut up. There it is—against you. You will be wearing your travelling dress, and no doubt you would prefer it. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. There was a loose button on that coat, and I want to sew it on. His advice was mostly practical. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided.
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