The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. That is my real milieu, and one that I am convinced you would not only adorn but delight in. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence.
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