The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. He drew her to him with his hands upon her waist. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly.
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