Wood, I command you not to stir," vociferated the carpenter's better-half; "recollect you'll be answerable to me. “I don’t know, John, but I think there is something going on with Michelle. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it.
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