Hips tended to be the bane of Shari’s existence as she tried diet after diet to get rid of them. So, after the dinner was over, Spurlock took her home; and worked far into the night. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. "I am happy—quite happy now. What are you after?’ ‘But my pistol and dagger, imbecile,’ she exclaimed impatiently, moving sharply back.
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