The atmosphere at dinner was not propitious. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. "Good night, Master. After all, it is not long since that a Catholic nun in this country would have had to remain in hiding. “How dare you!” They were both astonished at the other’s strength.
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