I never hunt the human tiger without being armed. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. But threats and entreaties—even promises were ineffectual; and the unlucky captive, after exhausting his powers of persuasion, was compelled to give up the point. “She thinks that Missy is trying to turn me into a punk or a Goth.
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