He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. Only after he had pushed himself completely inside was the friction lessened. The aunt laughed. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. Like the Valades, I imagine. “I missed the hour of your release,” he said, “but I was at the Vindicator Restaurant.
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