A nurse was at the other end of the room. Hurrying in the direction of the supposed arrest, they encouraged each other with shouts, and threatened the offending parties with their vengeance. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage. ‘Very well,’ he said, lowering his own weapon.
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